


You Have To Make Your Own Wishes Come True

by orochiis



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Angst, Azure Moon Route, F/M, Fluff, side pairings are ingrid/dorothea and sylvain/mercedes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-17
Updated: 2020-01-17
Packaged: 2021-02-25 06:08:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 25,147
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22291282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orochiis/pseuds/orochiis
Summary: "I should have listened to you back at the academy when you warned me, and maybe I could’ve prevented it from happening.”“It’s not your fault, Byleth,” he says, softer, before snapping his gaze to meet hers. “Is it okay if I call you that? You’re not our professor anymore, so…”“Of course."
Relationships: Felix Hugo Fraldarius/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 7
Kudos: 157





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> For the purposes of this fic, there are more pews in the cathedral because it’s the dumbest looking cathedral in the world. Why do the pews not go all the way to the front how do you hear the sermon
> 
> Anyway I wrote this mostly because I fancy Felix. Enjoy!

The world is dark when Byleth wakes up.

The world is also cold, and wet, and surrounds her fully, until her brain wakes up, filling her with adrenaline, and she realises she’s lying in the shallows of a river. As she pulls herself from the water, her body is heavy, partly from exhaustion and partly from the water weighing down her clothes. She kneels on the edge of the river, and stares into her reflection. The water is mostly still, and she’s not too happy with how she looks.

She’s been asleep, that much she is certain of. But it doesn’t look that way- there are bags under her eyes, and her face is grey. Most shocking of all is her hair- the last she can remember it was by her shoulders, but now it’s well past waist length, and hanging down her face in wet clumps.

Byleth wrings her hair out into the river, disgusted at the colour of the water that drips down. Her coat gets the same treatment, and while she’s tempted to take her amour off and attempt to get the water out of her other clothes, she decides it’s probably better not to. With her coat slung back over her shoulders, she drags herself away from the river.

Her surroundings look vaguely familiar, though at the same time, it’s like she’s never been here in her life. As she reaches the crest of the hill, she realises where she is- this is the outskirts of Garreg Mach. The village is empty- Byleth can tell that despite the sun rising, it’s not just night-time keeping the villagers hidden from her. At this time of day, the town would be beginning to wake up, with the market setting up for the day. But there isn’t a sound from the village, and Byleth suddenly remembers why.

Edelgard’s army marched through here. But where are they now? Surely it hasn’t been that long since Byleth fell off that cliff, chasing Rhea… but then she remembers her hair, and the silence of the town below. How long has it been?

As she moves to go down the hill, towards Garreg Mach, a voice calls out from behind her. It’s not one she recognises, but she turns anyway, hand on the hilt of the Sword of the Creator. Behind her is a travelling merchant, heavy bag on his back.

“Where are you going? I mean, I saw you in the river earlier. I thought you were another one of the Imperial army’s victims, so I left you be. Are you headed to Garreg Mach?”  
  
“I was asleep,” Byleth says, finding her voice hoarse from goddess knows how long out of use.

“Asleep? In the river?” The merchant asks, and Byleth merely shrugs. “You can’t go to Garreg Mach, though. It’s full of bandits these days!”

“What date is it?”

“The sixteenth of the Ethereal Moon. Well, it will be once the sun rises.”  
  
“What year?” She urges- that is the most important part, really.

“Are you serious? It’s 1185. It’s been nearly five years since the Imperial army took over. You really must have been asleep the whole time,” the merchant snorts.

The Ethereal Moon is an important month, but Byleth can’t exactly figure out why. 1185, 1185… there’s something in that year that’s ringing in the back of her head, but she can’t think why. Then suddenly, it hits her. It’s the millennium festival tonight- one thousand years since Garreg Mach was founded, and the day she promised to meet her students again. She turns on her heel.

“I have to go to Garreg Mach. My students are waiting for me.”  
  
“Students? Are you mad? Like I said, there have been many bandits spotted in the area! You’re going to get yourself killed!”  
  
His voice fades to a murmur as Byleth continues down the hill. She wraps her hair around itself, tucking the ends into her collar to keep it out of the way. Byleth closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, calling upon the one friend she knows is still here, somewhere.

“Sothis, help me.”

* * *

Byleth barely has time to think before she’s thrust into battle. It almost feels like old times, fighting side by side with Dimitri. _Almost._ He’s changed in the last five years, into something that worried her the whole time she was his teacher. From the first time she met him, she could see the lingering darkness, a well buried sadness that many of the rest of his classmates couldn’t have noticed. But it was her time spent with Felix that really made Byleth worry about the crown prince- the things Felix said about him were not just baseless conjecture.

And that is even more evident now, when he tears bandits apart with a forged silver lance that may as well be a training lance in Dimitri’s hands, with the careless way he swings. She trails behind him, Sword of the Creator finishing off any enemies that he misses. Somehow, he’s grown even taller in the five years they’ve been apart, and now stands a full foot taller than her. Still, she’s not intimidated by him- there’s a lot going on that she’s not aware of, but one thing that she is certain of is that the Dimitri she knows from the Officer’s Academy is still there. Somewhere, she hopes, buried deep under the layers of blood and dirt that cake his skin.

As more and more bandits appear, Byleth isn’t sure that even Dimitri’s ridiculous strength can save them from this situation. He’s still human, still tires easily, and the sweat pouring off his forehead is clear for her to see as she fights in his blind spot. As she changes swords, for a more lightweight steel sword, she sees a flash of magic from across the battlefield, and for the first time that day, hope swells in her chest.

The bright green light is most certainly one of Annette’s wind spells, and Byleth turns her head to see if she can spot the girl. And she can- quickly advancing towards them with Mercedes and Ashe in tow. Never in her life has she been happier to see her students, and she says a silent prayer that the others will also arrive. With every swing of her sword, Byleth takes down another enemy, and soon she and Dimitri are face to face with the enemy’s leader.

As Byleth steadies her sword, a Pegasus flies in from above and takes a swipe at the leader. Ingrid being here means that Sylvain and Felix must be here too, and that confirmation comes from four arrows that hit their mark with accuracy that can only have come from Felix. It is Sylvain’s face she sees first however, when his head pokes around a crumbling monastery wall and splits into the biggest grin she’s ever seen on another person.

“Professor!” He calls, waving despite the chance of more enemies and imminent death if he’s not careful.

“What are you yelling about?” She can hear Felix say, and when he too appears, beside Ingrid’s landed Pegasus, his face changes to one of the only genuine smiles she’s ever seen him give. “Glad to see you’re not dead after all.”  
  
“Yeah, Professor. We were all really worried about you!” Ingrid grumbles, sliding off her mount, lance still firmly in her grasp. “Where have you been?”  
  
“It’s a long story that I’ll try to explain later,” Byleth excuses as Annette, Mercedes and Ashe join them, with Dimitri trying his best not to listen in. “For now, we’ll head back to the main part of the monastery. I expect it will still be in ruins like here, and we may encounter more enemies, so we should all be on our guard.”

“It’s wonderful to have you back, Professor,” Mercedes adds, and Byleth smiles for the first time since she woke up.

* * *

It is difficult to keep track of all her students, now that they’re all grown up. She’s less likely to find them in the library, studying and finishing assignments, and instead finds them scattered about the grounds of Garreg Mach. It means a trek if she’s looking for anyone in particular, and since she’s been checking in on them after her five years of absence, her legs are tired after running around all day.

Some of them are as predictable as they were in the Officer’s Academy. Ingrid is often in the dining room, and frequently has Dorothea in tow- the latter hiding out from the Empire here and offering her support to the Kingdom’s army. Annette is often in the greenhouse, and Mercedes in the cathedral. Ashe is still in the library, but now he reads novels and not heavy textbooks on strategy and warfare. Sylvain still can be found chatting up the local girls- who are slowly returning to the area after the news that the Church of Seiros has begun to reform in the monastery.

Dimitri is in the cathedral too, most of the time. He won’t speak to anyone, except perhaps Gilbert, and even then, it’s usually to shout at him for bothering him. Dimitri doesn’t listen, and Dimitri doesn’t seem to care. Byleth worries about him, but decides her time is probably more usefully spent checking in on everyone else. She and Seteth run a tight ship- calling war meetings and checking in on supplies. Merchants return to the marketplace, at long last, and life begins to continue almost as normal.

This evening, it is Felix that Byleth needs to check in on. She never sees him at mealtimes, but then again, she’s rarely there when everyone else is. She knows where he is, however- the place he always is- the training grounds. That was his refuge throughout his days at the academy, and she doesn’t know why that would change now.

Sure enough, there he is, behind those heavy oak doors. It’s just him, and a wooden training sword, and a dummy that looks slightly worse for wear. He glances up when he sees her approaching, before flicking his gaze to the floor, to the training dummy, and finally back to her.

“I heard you were doing your rounds.” There’s a slight venom in his voice when he speaks, something that unsettles her far less than she supposes he intends.

“Just checking in on everyone,” Byleth explains, mustering up a smile. “Do you have a moment? I’ve had tea with everyone else, but if-“

“Tea sounds nice. I was just about done here anyway.” His words do come as a surprise, and she follows him with her eyes as he tidies up the training grounds. Out of all her former pupils, he is the one that has changed the least, she reckons. He is no taller, no broader, and his hair is barely any different. Shorter, maybe, but she can’t think of a time when she saw it down before the war broke out.  
  
As Felix joins her to walk to her room, silently, the thing Byleth notices the most is that he _has_ changed. He’s less grumpy, at least externally. There is no way for her to know without asking what’s happened, but his trademark scowl is softer, at least right now. She’s certain should Sylvain or Dimitri be in the vicinity it would reappear, but for now, it’s just nice to see Felix’s stresses disappear.

At the same time, Felix looks at Byleth, and realises how terrible she looks. He wasn’t blind, or stupid- he knew just as well as anyone else how attractive his old teacher was. But now her eyes are tired and puffy, her pale hair grown out in ratty strings. Clearly, she has no idea how to look after such long hair, as it’s merely braided (in one of the worst plaits he’s ever seen) and tucked inside her coat. Her energy is the same, though, that quiet confidence that shines through her otherwise stoic outward appearance.

She unlocks the door to her room and hold it open for him. Carefully, he takes a step inside, and almost jumps out of his skin when she closes the door behind him. Byleth points to the table in the corner of her room, and he slides into one of the chairs, folding his arms while she pours the tea.

“It’s been a while, Felix,” she says, passing a cup across to him.

“Five years,” he points out drily. “Were you really asleep the whole time? I find that hard to believe.”  
  
“Me too,” she admits, “it does sound rather implausible. But it’s true, at least as far as I know. I don’t have any memory of those five years, and judging by this hair… I’d say it’s the only answer.”

“I guess I have no choice but to believe you, then,” he says, that smirk he gets when he thinks he’s going to beat her in a spar appearing on his face. “I’m glad to have you back. We all are,” he adds quickly.

“And I’m glad you’re all back. Well, most of you, anyway.”  
  
“It’s just Dedue. I think we did quite well, considering the odds.”  
  
“ _Just_ Dedue? He was your classmate, Felix. I would have thought you would have cared more that he died.”  
  
“I- that’s not what I meant. We only lost one person. For a country that’s got a tiny population compared to the Empire, only losing one member of our class is beating the odds by a lot.” He folds his arms again, defending from her onslaught of questions.

“Sorry. I guess I’m a little on edge at the minute, what with…”  
  
“The boar?” Felix scoffs. “I always knew something like this would happen.”  
  
“I know. And I should have listened to you back at the academy when you warned me, and maybe I could’ve prevented it from happening.”  
  
“It’s not your fault, Byleth,” he says, softer, before snapping his gaze to meet hers. “Is it okay if I call you that? You’re not our professor anymore, so…”  
  
“Of course. And tell everyone else that, too. I hated being called ‘professor’ all the time.” She sighs, taking a sip from her cup. “It may not be entirely up to me to help Dimitri through this dark period of his life, but…”  
  
“It’s not. You need to focus on helping us win the war. Maybe during all this, Dimitri will see sense. And… while I don’t disagree that you’re one of the few people he’ll listen to, don’t put all the pressure on yourself. You need to look after yourself too. You look like you haven’t slept since we came back here. If you die on the battlefield because you’re too tired to concentrate, I’ll… I’ll kill you!”

“I appreciate your worry, Felix, but I’m fine. We’re all very busy. Word has it that the Imperial Army are on their way here now, so we’re flat out trying to prevent another tragedy. Trying to protect the little we have left.”  
  
“Put me on the front lines,” Felix demands. “That’s where I’m best.”

“I know. That’s probably where you’ll end up. You’re one of the strongest soldiers we have.”  
  
He can feel his face flushing, and averts his gaze yet again. Goddess, what are her words doing to him? She’s not even saying it to be nice- her tone tells him that she’s simply stating facts. He downs the rest of his tea, despite the fact that it’s still too hot, and taps his foot against the floor to get the thoughts that are slowly creeping in out of his mind.

“So, what have you been doing for five years?” She asks. Finally, safe territory. “I heard from Ingrid and Sylvain that you’ve been helping your father?”  
  
“Helping is the wrong word. He’s been training me to become the next Duke Fraldarius. That, and we’ve been in open contention of Cornelia, who I’m sure you’ve heard about. The woman is a rat, I swear. My father insisted I help with the rebellion. It’s the only thing we can agree on.”  
  
“That’s something else I wanted to talk to you about. We were hoping to ask for more support from your father, but I didn’t want to go ahead unless you were comfortable.” Felix raises an eyebrow at her. Not once in his life has anyone taken his dislike for his father seriously. Sure, he’s holding on to nearly ten years of grievances, and that may be childish, but for Byleth to openly acknowledge his discomfort… well, that was a first. Still, this is a war, and as much as he doesn’t want to see his father, he doesn’t have a choice if they want to defeat the Empire.

“Yeah, sure. Whatever. I doubt even if I said no you’d listen.” Goddess, what is he saying? He grits his teeth, and gets to his feet, needing to get out of this situation that he keeps making worse for himself.

“Seteth may not listen, nor may Gilbert. But I’ll always be here to listen if you need me to.” Felix stops by the door, tears stinging at the back of his eyes. This is not the place to cry, even though he knows Byleth will support him. It’s been a hell of a five years without her, and he’s positive he’s not the only Blue Lion that has missed her comfort (even if he’ll not admit it to anyone but himself).

“Train with me some time,” he says instead. “Like the old days. I want to see if you’re out of practice after being asleep for so long.”

“I’d like to see that too. Maybe you’ve gone rusty after learning how to do paperwork for five years.” She’s smiling, a rare feeling that she’s still so very unused to being on her face. It feels a little strange, but to bestow one of these rare smiles on Felix feels right.

“Ha! You wish. I’ll be able to get a win against you. Don’t forget, that’s what we wished for in the Goddess Tower all those years ago.”  
  
“No, that’s what _you_ wished for. I didn’t wish for anything.”  
  
“Oh,” he says, his breath catching in his chest at the memory of the _other_ wish he’d made that night- that she was his lover, as it goes in the story, and that they would be together forever. His mouth betrayed him though, and chased her off before he could do anything else.

“You have to make your own wishes come true, though. So maybe this is your one and only opportunity to beat me.”  
  
“You’re on. You know where to find me when you want to train.”  
  
“I’m glad we spoke, Felix,” she says, that smile still on her face, softer now. She gets up to see him out the door. “I’m always available at any time if you want to talk. Just come find me, okay?” She pats his forearm in what she hopes is a comforting way, and he jerks back as if she used a Fire spell.

“Yeah. Maybe try one of your “checking in” sessions on the boar. I think he needs it the most.”

“I’ll do my best. Goodnight, Felix.”

And then he’s gone, and her room feels a lot emptier without his presence. She changes out of her armour and into her nightclothes, and settles herself under the blankets, with Felix’s words to take care of herself most of all ringing in her ears.

* * *

After the attack on Garreg Mach, everyone in Garreg Mach becomes more confident. With Byleth and Dimitri on their side, they are more or less unstoppable- unless, of course, they are faced with Edelgard herself. They have sent the Imperial army a message, proven their strength, and Byleth thinks it unlikely that they’ll attack Garreg Mach again any time soon.

Braving the cathedral for the first time in weeks, Byleth sets off to find Dimitri. Perhaps, with a victory against the Empire under their belt, he’ll be more convinced to listen to her, to Gilbert, to Seteth. So she grits her teeth and steels herself and walks down the aisle, brushing her hand against the pews as she passes.

As usual, Dimitri stands facing the rubble where the Seiros statue used to be, and seems impervious to the footsteps approaching him. The rest of the cathedral is empty- choir practice is over for the day, and the nuns who have recently returned have retired for the day. It is just her and Dimitri, and the heavy silence that surrounds them.

“Good evening,” she begins, before he can get the first word in.

“Go away.”

“No. We need to talk about what we’re going to do next. Duke Fraldarius has agreed to meet us in Ailell. I don’t know if you were listening when that was said before.”

“It matters not to me what Rodrigue is doing. Go to the valley of torment if you wish. I’m going to Enbarr.”

“There’s no way we can win this war without your cooperation, Dimitri. If you go to Enbarr on your own, you’ll die. You won’t even reach the gates, never mind Edelgard. You will be struck down before you can get within one hundred miles of the capital. I’m not sure you could even cross the border.”  
  
“You talk in an awful lot of certainties for someone who isn’t a fortune teller,” he growls, turning to face her at last. “I am stronger than Edelgard,” he spits her name with poison, “and I am stronger than her armies. I will march up to the gates on Enbarr and-“

“No. You won’t. We won’t win anything until we take back Fhirdiad. Until you take your seat as the rightful king of Faerghus. When we have more troops, more allies.”  
  
“Do you ever stop talking, professor? I used to enjoy your lectures, but now your voice is just another droning in my ear.”  
  
“Dimitri, I’m just trying to help. Everyone is worried about you.”  
  
She doesn’t see him move a muscle, but in an instant, he’s towering over her, his hand pulling her backwards by her hair. Her body freezes, unable to move, scared that if she does, he’ll just chase her, and with his strength, even unarmed, she sees very little chance that she’d win an encounter with him.

“Worried about me? What about you? When you disappeared for five years and left us to fend for ourselves? When the Imperial army captured me, and the vile Minister of the Imperial Household tore out my eye? When Cornelia took over my city? Where were you?!”  
  
“Dimitri, let go, I- “  
  
“No, Professor! Tell me, when Dedue sacrificed himself for me, were you dozing in the river? When the church started a search party for Lady Rhea, what were you doing? You liked Edelgard too, didn’t you? Maybe you should go join the Imperial army, since you’re just as bad as her!”  
  
When those words tumble out of his mouth, completely unbidden, he gasps, and drops Byleth’s hair, and stumbles backwards. And there is the Dimitri from five years ago, the one that promised that they should all meet up for the millennium festival. The Dimitri that was kind, and gentle, and not the Dimitri that threatened to kill anyone that came near him.

“We’re going to Ailell,” she manages to say before she promptly makes her way out of the cathedral.

Byleth walks at top speed, and doesn’t stop walking until she reaches the dining room. For once, nearly everyone is there, gathered around one or two tables. They all look up when Byleth enters, and she is greeted with the usual pep and cheer from her friends. But she can’t concentrate on anything like that, and she marches straight up to where Mercedes is sitting, an empty plate in front of her, embroidery on her lap.

“Are you busy?” Byleth mumbles.

“Not especially. Why, do you need something, professor?”  
  
“Yes. I’d like you to cut my hair, if that’s possible.”  
  
“Of course. Why don’t we go to my room?”  
  
She can feel all eyes on her as she leaves, Mercedes walking in front with the usual skip in her step. There is one pair of eyes she can feel following her, belonging to the one person that she would love to tell about what just happened in the cathedral. Felix would understand- but there’s also a chance that Felix would go to the cathedral himself and provoke Dimitri, and Byleth doesn’t even want to think about how that confrontation would end.

Mercedes’s room is sparsely decorated, but she seats Byleth down on the only chair in the room, and hovers behind her. The healer’s hands are warm, as she pulls all of Byleth’s hair out from her collar, and carefully undoes her braid. She takes a brush to her hair, humming quietly as she goes.

“It’s so hard to tell what you’re thinking, Professor,” Mercedes says, pausing at a particularly difficult tangle. Byleth can only hum in response- most of the time, she’s truly not thinking anything. “Pardon me if it’s rude to ask, but is there a reason you wanted to cut your hair now? Why not the first night we got back?”  
  
Byleth pauses. Does she tell Mercedes? _Can_ she tell Mercedes? The older woman is clearly the most mature out of the Blue Lions, and she knows she can trust her to keep a secret. Her encounter with Dimitri was uncomfortable on a number of levels, and she’s not sure how to put it into words. Still, she may as well try. Mercedes is probably the _real_ best person to tell.

“I went to the cathedral to see Dimitri. To see if I could talk to him, convince him to follow our plan, and not just go to Enbarr on his own. He… he shouted. More than usual, more personal. He compared me to Edelgard. And he grabbed my hair to keep me still.”  
  
“Oh, Professor. That sounds truly awful. If something like that ever happens again, you know you can always come to me, right? I know you said that your door is always open to us, but the opposite is also true.”  
  
“Thank you, Mercedes.”  
  
“Now, how much do you want to cut off? Somewhere about here, maybe?” Mercedes asks, poking Byleth’s back somewhere in the middle.  
  
“I was thinking… back to what is was before. Five years ago, before I fell asleep.”

“Are you sure? That’s a lot of hair to cut off…”  
  
“I’m certain. It was a lot easier to deal with. And I liked the way it looked.”

“Alright! I’ll do my best.”  
  
Byleth is quiet as Mercedes cuts and trims, pale green hair falling to the floor. Mercedes chats, telling Byleth about how everyone else is really getting on- it seems Byleth is not the only person to entrust Mercedes with her feelings. She’s glad they have someone to talk to, though- she has been worried for everyone for the longest time, but Mercedes lending a kind ear can only be a good thing.

“Okay,” Mercedes says, taking a step back. “What do you think? I’m not hair stylist, but I’ve done my best.”

Byleth turns to face the mirror, and breathes a sigh of relief. That is the Byleth she knows. Practical hair, that won’t get caught on things, or get in the way during battle or training. Hair that can’t be pulled, she thinks, grabbing a fistful of her hair to little success.

“Thank you, Mercedes. That’s a lot better.”  
  
“Glad I can be of some help. It sometimes feels like I’m not really doing anything to help in this war,” Mercedes admits, setting the scissors and brush down on her table.

“That’s not true at all. I would almost certainly be dead if it weren’t for you.”  
  
“Nonsense. The goddess would never let you die.”  
  
“Perhaps not me, then. But how about Sylvain? Or Ashe, or Dorothea? Marianne can’t heal everyone on her own. How many times have you healed Ingrid’s wounds? Or Felix’s?”  
  
“I suppose you have a point. Thank you, Professor. Sometimes it’s hard to see the value of your own work.”  
  
“You’re right. Keep thinking positively, and we’ll win this war in no time. Okay?”  
  
“Okay.”


	2. Chapter 2

Felix Hugo Fraldarius doesn’t have friends. The people he grew up with he would probably refer to as close acquaintances, if pushed. That applies to Ingrid and Sylvain only- Dimitri is… not on that list anymore. He probably could be friends with them, if they weren’t so annoying. If they listened to him more, and listened to each other more. If Ingrid didn’t need to fix things between the four of them, if Sylvain could stop womanising for five minutes and concentrate on anything else. If Dimitri had gotten the help he needed all those years ago, and hadn’t become the beat Felix always feared he would.

Perhaps, Felix thinks, this is why he gets along so well with Byleth. She listens to him, and doesn’t offer pointless solutions that won’t actually do anything to help the issue. She’s the only person that can beat him in a sword fight, and considering he’s been practicing the last five years and she’s been dead really says something for how talented she is.

He tries not to think about her. It’s hard though, when they have classes together- she still insists on running them under the guise of war meetings. On the whole, he avoids them, practising by himself in the training grounds. When he hears someone coming, often her, he throws the sword to one side and practices magic instead, since she’s so keen he learn it. And he will, for her, because Byleth’s ideas are always good.

It’s hard to keep her out of his mind when she seems to seek him out, for advice on their next march, even though he knows nothing of tactics, or to sit with him and the others at dinner because it’s more enjoyable than eating on her own or with the boar. She cares too much for him, Felix thinks bitterly. And he cares far too much for her. It’s hard to stay away from her when he’s almost convinced he’s in love with her.

Felix Hugo Fraldarius doesn’t have friends, except, perhaps, Annette. There’s something about the younger girl that comforts him- she doesn’t have the same annoying ideas that most of the rest of his old class do about knighthood or upholding family values. She also has a similar relationship with her father to the one Felix does- both of them valued less than Dimitri, at least in their eyes.

Today, on a particularly rainy Tuesday, on a day Felix decides he will go to the war meeting, he finds himself sitting beside Annette, who doodles on her notes and barely pays attention. Felix finds himself staring at Byleth more than anything else, and occasionally, he can feel Annette’s eyes boring into the back of his head. At the end of the meeting, she grabs onto his sleeve to keep him in his seat, and waits for everyone else to leave. When she turns to him, there’s a smile on her face, as usual, but this one is a little different.

“I’ve written a new song,” Annette declares, causing Felix to raise an eyebrow. Usually, she’s very protective of her songs, and he tends to only hear them by accident. He likes hearing them though, even if he won’t admit that to her. “Do you want to hear?”  
  
“Sure,” Felix says. Annette clears her throat.

“ _There once was a lonely swordsman, who travelled across the land, to catch a glimpse of the professor, and maybe hold her hand._ ”  
  
“Annette-“  
  
“ _And then that lonely swordsman, with amber eyes so wide, declared his love to the professor, and then she was his bride!_ Ta-da!”  
  
“What are you talking about?” Felix hisses, glancing around the room, even though there hadn’t been anyone else there for the last five minutes.

“You know, for someone that is so good at keeping his emotions hidden, you’re very obviously pining for the professor. I’d be surprised if I was the only one that has noticed, Felix.”

“I have no idea what you mean.”  
  
“It’s okay, Felix. You’re allowed to be in love. And the professor is great! She’s beautiful, and smart, and talented, and…”  
  
“And I’m not ‘in love’ with her. You’re just making things up.” Gods, was he really that obvious? If Annette has noticed, Sylvain and Ingrid have almost certainly noticed as well. Loathe as he is to admit it, but they probably know him better than anyone else.

“You keep telling yourself that,” Annette says, reaching up to pat Felix on the shoulder. “But Felix, you’re allowed to be happy. Remember that.”  
  
She skips off, singing another one of her songs. Felix curls his hands into fists, angry that someone could read him so well. And _Annette_ of all people. Annette, who he spends time with doing chores, and that’s it. While he does (unwillingly) consider her a friend, they’re not close by any stretch of the imagination, and it terrifies him to think who else knows of this.

“Annette,” he calls, before she has the chance to leave. She turns, eyes wide. “Don’t tell anyone.”

* * *

Since the battle at Ailell, Felix has been hiding out in the training grounds. Most of this is to avoid his father, who now is staying at the monastery, with the promise that Fraldarius territory will be safe until he returns. This means that Felix avoids the main areas of Garreg Mach, confining himself to his room or the only other place he feels comfortable.

Despite the fact that spring is near, it still feels cold in Garreg Mach. Byleth wears an extra cloak, made of a heavy wool, any time she ventures outside. That has been happening a lot less than she would like recently- there is more paperwork to read over, more inventories to sort through, more battle plans to make. The Great Bridge of Myrddin is next on their plans, and while Byleth can’t rule out the odd skirmish between now and then, she hopes that they can rest this month. Goddess knows they all need it.

She knows Felix won’t be resting. She’s had to make sure someone brings him dinner each night, and leaves it within the door of the training grounds. She’s been told the plate is returned empty each night, which is something at least. If he’s still eating, his strength will remain up.

When she enters the training grounds this evening, there he is, sword in hand, practicing stances, twirling his sword- a real sword this time- in between his fingers. Byleth stands by the door for a moment, unable to tear her eyes away from him. He has removed his usual jacket and white shirt, and with just his black undershirt on she can see every defined muscle in his back and arms. Clearly, he’s used to the chill of Northern Faerghus and doesn’t feel the cold here. It’s a little embarrassing, but she manages to gather her composure before clearing her throat to get his attention.

“Are you busy?” She asks.

“Yes.”  
  
“Too busy to spar with me?” That gets his attention. He sets his sword aside and lifts a training one, throwing a second one at Byleth. She catches it, and jumps down the last few steps to take an opposing stance against him.

He copies her stance, twirling his sword in his hand. Then he rushes at her, and she barely has time to block- he’s faster than usual, angrier. She matches him, blow for blow, parrying each one of his attacks, until she manages to duck under his arm, kick the back of his ankle and send him tumbling to the ground. She points the wooden blade at his neck, narrowing her eyes.

“Yield.”  
  
“I yield,” he says, a little more breathless than he should be for how short their fight was.

She holds a hand out to help him up, and hesitantly, he takes it. He ends up a lot closer to her than she originally intended, and he stumbles back. There’s a curious look on his face, and Byleth tilts her head, trying to figure out what’s wrong with him. He looks away, so she takes a step closer.

“What’s wrong? You were all over the place today. Your footwork was nowhere near as good as usual, your blade work sloppy. What’s going on in your head?”  
  
“Just my father being here,” Felix excuses. That may be part of the reason, but he can’t tell her the rest of the reason. “I can feel his presence, even here. It’s like he haunts this place. I hope he just talks some sense into the boar and then fucks off home again.”

“I think… I think you’ve worked too hard. You’re tired. Please take a rest, Felix. We have an important battle in two weeks, and you’ve been here all month so far, so you really need to take a break.”

“I’m fine.”  
  
“No, you’re not. You’re so different from the last time we properly spoke.”  
  
Felix swallows hard. He’s not trying to push her away, but it’s the only thing he can do to make himself feel safe from her. There’s a look in her eyes that isn’t helping- that genuine wish to help him with whatever ails him.

“Fine. I am tired. I’m tired of my father, and the war, and the boar bringing the mood of this place down. I’m tired of fighting all the time, of having to be on guard twenty-four seven.” As he speaks, he lifts his white shirt and jacket from the ground, angrily putting them back on. “Maybe I will just go to bed. I can get caught up on some of that reading you recommended me.”

“You still haven’t done your reading?” She jokes, and he manages to huff out a laugh.

“I’ve been busy.” He sheathes his silver sword from earlier, and begins to walk past her.

“Hey,” she calls. He stops, but doesn’t turn back around. “Have dinner with me tomorrow. I’ll come get you after Rodrigue has left the dining hall, so you don’t have to see him.”  
  
“Fine.”

And then he’s gone. Byleth waits for a moment before following, heading back to her own room. Why is she making these accommodations for him? Going out of her way to ensure that he is comfortable, excusing his absences from war meetings in front of everyone else, when she just shrugs when anyone else is missing. Then a thought hits her, a slim possibility that she is almost certain is Sothis playing with her again.

Love. She is in love with Felix. Of course, she doesn’t know if this is true. While she’s had romances, if she could go as far as to call them that, when she was on the road as a mercenary, she definitely had never felt anything that she could have described as romantic love. Though, from what she’s heard from other people, what she’s experiencing when she’s around Felix could well be just that.

The tightening of her chest, the heat rushing to her face, the constant urge to hold his hand, touch his face, be close to him in whatever way she can. The way she always wants to be near him, seeks him out frequently just to spend time with him, when she doesn’t do that with anyone else. Byleth holds her head in her hands, shaking her head.

Sothis help her.

* * *

Morale raises with every win. The battle at the Great Bridge of Myrddin is an easy win- the bridge was not as heavily defended as they thought, and Lorenz gave in quickly. They gained control of the bridge, and now have a way into the Adrestian Empire that is more or less safe.

Dimitri is Byleth’s current fear. Though Dedue has returned, and now refuses to leave his liege’s side, Dimitri is even more convinced that he has to go to Enbarr right now. Thankfully, he seems to be listening to Dedue, who has been listening to Byleth. She doesn’t feel the need to check on Dimitri every day anymore. She does, however, feel that security should be tightened- there is every chance that the prince will try to make an escape, and none of them are strong enough to stop him.

However glad they are for the consistent victories, there are often times that the weight of what they are doing catches up with them. Byleth spends countless hours consoling those in the army, drying their tears when they are too upset to do it themselves. Dorothea is this week’s victim of constant crying, mumbling incoherently about Ferdinand into Byleth’s shoulder.

During the last few weeks, Flayn has been following Byleth around. The former professor is thankful for her help- healing physical injuries with a skill that no one else has, and lending an ear to those troubles Byleth finds it hard to offer advice about. Flayn seems rather unaffected by the war, but Byleth can’t help but worry about her too.

“Flayn,” Byleth says one day, when she can feel the cleric tailing her from a distance.

“Y-yes, Professor?” Flayn is quick to reply, sticking her head around from the pillar she has concealed herself behind.

“You don’t need to hide. You are more than welcome to walk beside me, if you’re so interested in what I’m doing.”  
  
“Ah. Thank you.” She hurries ahead, falling into step beside Byleth.

“Why _are_ you so interested in what I’m doing?” Byleth asks. “It’s not particularly interesting. I just check up on everyone.”  
  
“I find it interesting Professor, even if you don’t. You go well beyond your role as general of the army- you care about each individual member of the army, their physical and mental wellbeing. Why, that’s even beyond your role as a teacher in the Officer’s Academy!”  
  
“It’s been a long time since I was a teacher. And I doubt I will be again, with all that’s going on here.” As they round the corner towards the training grounds, Byleth sighs. “With being general, and proxy archbishop… well, it’s hard to see a future when I’ll have time for myself. And I did really enjoy my time at the Officer’s Academy.”

“I too enjoyed my time under your tutelage. I learned so much that I would not have learned from anyone else. Particularly from my father,” she whispers, “he is not as… open minded as you.”  
  
“Seteth cares about you very much. Though I do think, sometimes, his overprotectiveness is wrongly placed. I have seen you on the battlefield- you can more than look after yourself.”  
  
“Perhaps if you tell him that, in writing, he may actually listen,” Flayn giggles. “I do know he cares about me, but I do so long to exist as my own person, and not just my father’s daughter. Oh, no, Professor, I didn’t think! I hope my words haven’t offended you.”  
  
“Of course not. I understand what you mean. I like existing in my father’s shadow, personally. I like having his mercenary company close by- I grew up around most of them, and it’s… comforting to have people I know so well by my side. But…”  
  
“Lady Rhea,” Flayn says, voicing the thought that Byleth can’t bring herself to. The Professor nods.

“I don’t want to be archbishop. I didn’t even know the church existed until not that long ago. My father kept me away from it for a reason. And while I have no issue with the church, per se, I’m not qualified to lead. There are people that have devoted their entire lives to the teachings of the goddess, and yet I am to lead the church? Because the goddess chose me?”

She has another comment on the goddess, and how annoying it was to have her living in her head for all those months, but she bites her tongue. Flayn would likely consider that comment blasphemous, or else think that she was going mad, and frankly, Byleth can’t be bothered to deal with either of those outcomes.

“I think you were born to lead, Professor. Whether that be the Church of Seiros or the Faerghus army, you have leadership skills that the generals of old would be jealous of. Even if no one can tell what you’re thinking most of the time.”

“Thanks for the insight, Flayn. I do value the opinions of my friends on matters like this.”  
  
“Oh, Professor, you consider us friends?”  
  
“Of course I do.”  
  
“Well, I am glad! It is such an honour to be friends with someone like you. I do not have many friends.”  
  
“Sometimes it feels like I have too many,” Byleth jokes. “I have to check in on Felix now. Do you want to come with me?”  
  
“Of course, Professor. I confess that I find Felix a most interesting person. So grumpy, and yet so tender, at the same time. How does one do that?”  
  
“Maybe you can ask him yourself.”


	3. Chapter 3

It’s raining. It always seems to be raining at the moment- the constant drizzle hasn’t stopped since they returned to Garreg Mach last night. On one hand, the Battle of Gronder Field was a rousing success- they drove Edelgard and her forces back, they pushed the Alliance away so they could seize victory for themselves. On the other hand…

Rodrigue’s body lies in the cathedral- an open casket for anyone who wants to pay their respects before he is buried later in the week. Manuela and Flayn did an excellent job of preparing his body, and Byleth notes that he does indeed look happy in this new state of peace.

Dimitri has moved himself to Manuela’s office, and has quietly agreed to have Manuela check up on him. Rodrigue’s death came as a shock to him, with the Holy Knight sacrificing himself for Dimitri’s safety. The prince finally gets a proper treatment for his physical ailments, though Byleth isn’t convinced he’s going to accept help for anything else.

In the morning, she covers her head with her cape to ward off the rain, and makes her way from her room to the infirmary, where she is almost certain Dimitri will already be awake. She stops off in the dining hall, lifting him a meagre portion of that day’s porridge. When she reaches his new room, the door is already open, and Manuela is patching up the wound Fleche bestowed upon him. It’s nearly healed, by the look of things, though Dimitri squirms in discomfort under the healer’s touch.

The older professor helps him redress- into a loose black shirt that doesn’t touch his wound. It’s a little strange, Byleth thinks, seeing Dimitri without all his armour and furs. Manuela excuses herself from the room, and Byleth takes a seat on the bed opposite Dimitri. Silently, she hands him his breakfast, and without pause to think, he begins eating in earnest. When he’s done, the bowl is discarded on the bed beside him, and he stares at Byleth through one sad eye.

“Professor… I am so sorry for my behaviour the last few months.” His voice is shaky, but Byleth nods.

“I know you’ve been dealing with a lot of difficult emotions lately. I think it isn’t me that you need to apologise to, however, but the rest of your former classmates. They came back here for you, and they deserve to see you as you truly are, not some shell of a prince they met in school.”

“You’re right, Professor. I’ll maybe hold a meeting later today. I… I would like to discuss moving forward. To Fhirdiad. Not to Enbarr. Though I still want rid of Edelgard as quickly as possible, I have come to realise that we need to take back Fhirdiad first and get rid of that rat Cornelia once and for all.”  
  
“I’m glad you’ve changed your mind, Dimitri. And it’s nice to see you out and about. Make sure you get plenty of rest, now. We need you to be in good shape if you’re serious about taking back Fhirdiad.”

Byleth hops off the bed, and heads for the door. She has countless things to do today, and truly can’t afford to spend time babysitting Dimitri. Besides, Manuela will keep an eye on him, and she’s certain Dedue will be along shortly (Byleth had told him he needed rest as much as anyone else, and that Dimitri would be fine for one night on his own).

“Professor, I…” Dimitri says, his voice cracking. “I am sorry for my behaviour last night too. I should not have… cried on your shoulder. You were kind enough to offer me a second chance, and…”  
  
“You would not be the first person to cry on my shoulder, Dimitri, and you certainly won’t be the last.” She smiles, to relieve him of his worry, but there is something else eating at her. “Dimitri, hypothetically speaking… if we could find someone, a doctor, maybe, that would be an expert in whatever your condition is… would you be willing to speak with them?”  
  
“I…”  
  
“There’s no need to rush an answer. Think about it for me. I just want to see you get better. I think what is wrong with you… the way you see dead people who tell you to do things… I heard stories on the road of people with conditions that sounded similar to yours, and they were cured.”  
  
“Professor, if you think there is a way to shut them up… so I can remember them my own way, without being yelled at… by all means, I am willing to try. This has plagued me for many years, and…” He drifts off, staring down at his knees.

“I’ll get Seteth to track someone down, then. Thank you, Dimitri. I’ll see you later.”

There are a million and one things to do today on Byleth’s list, and she finds herself stuck behind her desk for the majority of the day. It’s odd that she even has an office now- her father’s old Captain’s quarters are supposed to be used for the leader of the Knights of Seiros, but considering she’s the leader of the entire army, she found it useful to have some sort of base- her paperwork was beginning to take over her dorm room.

Dimitri’s meeting is poorly attended, with everyone being too tired to attend. Annette and Mercedes, as well as Sylvain and surprisingly Shamir, are there, and listen attentively to the prince’s apology. Byleth promises him that they will hold another meeting when everyone is less busy, perhaps in Fhirdiad, once Dimitri is back on the throne.

Byleth doesn’t have a moment to herself until well past midnight, when she slides under the covers and closes her eyes in a vain attempt to fall asleep. The knowledge of the fact that she’s only likely to get four or five hours before she’s expected to get up again means she tosses and turns for the best part of an hour before she gives up. Though it’s still chilly outside at this time of night, Byleth decides that now is the time for a walk.

With her cloak slung around her shoulders, Byleth wanders out of her room, heading in the general direction of the cathedral. She gets nowhere near, however, as the lights are still on in the training ground, and there is a familiar yelling from inside. This was something she had been fearing, but her impossible schedule had left her no time to check in on the person that would be affected by this the most- Felix.

She pushes the door open, and the sight Byleth sees is almost exactly what she feared. She curses herself for not setting time aside to speak to him. It’s selfish, she thinks- she’s scared of these newfound feelings for him, and doesn’t want to scare him off. But he needs support right now, and goddess knows he won’t accept it from his friends.

There are training swords scattered across the floor, all in various states of disrepair. Some of the training dummies have been hacked to bits, a few even decapitated, and in the middle of the mess is Felix, his hair loose from his usual ponytail. He is still swinging his sword, though at what Byleth can’t quite tell.

“What are you doing here?” She calls out to him, and he freezes. “It’s almost two in the morning.”  
  
“Training,” Felix replies, but he doesn’t make any move to return to his training. “I couldn’t sleep, so I came here.”  
  
“Me neither. I’m sorry I haven’t gotten a chance to see you since we got back.”  
  
“It’s fine. I heard from Sylvain that you’re making the boar see a doctor. That’s more important for the war effort than me, and I understand that.”  
  
“That’s not necessarily true.”  
  
Byleth sits on the stone step, and pats the space beside her, encouraging him to come over. He hesitates, but he drops his sword, and falls rather ungracefully onto the stone beside her. He doesn’t speak, though his breathing is rather ragged- likely from overexerting himself during his late-night training session.

“I’m sorry for making a mess.”

“It’s okay. You can tidy it up in the morning.”

Silence. Not entirely uncomfortable, but Byleth can’t think of anything to say, or to do. Felix isn’t doing too well, that much she can tell, and it looks like he _wants_ to talk, considering how he is sitting beside her, but she knows not to push him, lest he decide he won’t speak to her.

“Has he been buried yet?” He asks, and Byleth almost sighs in relief.

“No. We’ve been waiting for you. He’s in the cathedral, if you want to see him.”  
  
Felix pauses. He hasn’t been in the Cathedral in years, and even in his time in the Officer’s Academy, he only went there for larger services he had to attend, and the few times Byleth forced him into choir practice. But it is his father who is there now, and although he wasn’t his biggest supporter, he still feels like he owes it to the man who looked after him for his whole life to see him now, one last time.

“Is the Cathedral open this late at night?”

“It’s always open for prayer. I can’t imagine anyone would turn you away if you want to see your father.” Byleth pauses as he scrambles to his feet. “Would you like me to come with you?”  
  
Felix stares at her. It wasn’t unlike her to offer this sort of support, but he’s never really needed it before, and it’s strange to hear those words come from her mouth in reference to him. He holds one gloved hand out to her to help her up, and attempts to form his mouth into a smile.

“If you don’t mind.”  
  
“Of course not.”

They walk to the Cathedral in a respectful silence. Felix is tempted to take Byleth’s hand, under the guise of needing the emotional support. But he keeps his arms firmly crossed, so as to avoid temptation. The rain is still heavy, the wind strong as they cross the bridge. The storms of the past month don’t let up, and Felix notices out of the corner of his eye that Byleth is practically being blown backwards by the wind.

Though he’s not much taller than her, and definitely no stronger, his furs keep the wind away. He offers his arm to her, without looking at her, and after a moment, her arm links through his, and she shuffles closer to him. Together, they brave the winds, and make it across the bridge to the Cathedral.

As soon as they step onto the marble floor, Byleth lets go of Felix’s arm, and allows him to walk down the aisle towards the coffin that his father rests in. She takes a seat in the first pew, a respectful distance- not too close, but not too far away that she is still upholding her promise to Felix.

The fur on his hood is saturated from the rain, and drips onto the face of Rodrigue. When Felix looks at his father, he’s not sure what to feel. Hatred, he thinks, is perhaps too strong a word. Anger, definitely- the things he said about Glenn are inexcusable, and could perhaps been forgiven if Rodrigue had taken back his words, and stopped insisting on preaching the path of knighthood to a son who clearly didn’t care.

Sadness is there too, though Felix doesn’t want to admit it. His father may have been stupid, and never really listened, but he was still his father, and he cared for Felix, even when Felix didn’t want his care. And so here, at the side of his father’s coffin, Felix cries.

Slowly, he turns around, turning his back on his father for the last time, and heads back to Byleth. She lifts her head when she hears the shuffle of his shoes, her expression giving away nothing of what she thinks as usual. He collapses onto the pew beside her, holding his face in his hands, hiding the fact that he’s crying from her. Byleth, however, knows better than that, and ever so gently places her hand on his shoulder.

“Felix, it’s okay,” she murmurs, low enough that none of the guards can hear her. “You’re allowed to feel… whatever you’re feeling.”

He straightens up a little, and turns to face her, baring his tearstained face to her. His bottom lip quivers in a vain attempt to keep more tears from spilling out. Carefully, Byleth reaches her hands up to his face, cradling his cheeks as she wipes his tears away. She’s surprised when he doesn’t pull away from her touch, and even more surprised when he moves closer, wrapping his arms around her and sobbing into her shoulder, where she can’t see his face.

Byleth pats him on the back, soothing him through his tears. Her fingers brush through his tangled hair, and she shushes him as he shakes. It takes a while, but eventually Felix’s tears subside, and his breathing returns to normal. He doesn’t move from Byleth’s shoulder, but removes his arms, folding his hands in his own lap. After another minute, he slowly lifts his head, wiping his tears on his sleeve.

“I’m sorry,” he mumbles.

“No. Don’t be. You needed to cry, and that’s okay. That’s normal.”

“I feel stupid.”  
  
“You’re not. I cried when my father died. And I’d never cried until then.”

“I used to cry all the time, as a baby. This is the first time I’ve cried since…”  
  
“It’s okay if you don’t remember.”  
  
“I do. It’s just embarrassing.”  
  
“Since when, then? I’m hardly going to judge you, Felix.”  
  
“I last cried when you died, five years ago.”  
  
“Oh.”  
  
“See, I told you it was embarrassing.”  
  
“It’s not. I’m just a little surprised you care enough about me to cry when I… disappeared.”  
  
“Of course I do,” he spits, as if there is something to be ashamed of.  
  
Felix stands at that, turning his back on Byleth. He sighs, and wipes at his face again, and sighs again.

“We should go to bed. I-I mean, you should go back to your room, and I’ll go back to mine. If the guards saw us like this, they might get the wrong idea.”

“You might be mistaken as my lover,” Byleth jokes weakly when she pushes herself to her feet.

“Don’t remind me of stupid things I said a long time ago,” Felix whispers, under his breath, before he offers Byleth his arm to brave the winds on the bridge once more.

They’re closer than either one of them would like, both entirely unaware of the other’s feelings. The close proximity makes Felix heart beat too fast, and he swears that Byleth can hear it. As much as he doesn’t want to admit it, he enjoys having Byleth this close to him, and despite all that’s happened recently, he thinks maybe soon he could tell her how he feels. But there is a war at hand, and she’s busy with a million and one other things.

Now, it is her that considers love a distraction. Or so he assumes, at least. His rash words from five years ago ring in his head- he wouldn’t be comfortable holding a woman’s hand. But now, with Byleth by his side, he’s decided that perhaps he does have time for love and romance, and maybe, he could hold her hand, or even kiss her. He cares about Byleth more than anyone else he knows,

When they reach the dorms, he stops dead in his tracks. He must go one way, and she must go the other. She lets go of his arm, and he feels the lack of her warmth immediately. Byleth offers him a rare smile, though it doesn’t quite meet her eyes.

“Don’t forget to tidy the training grounds in the morning,” she offers. “You should get some good rest first though. No one else will be there until after lunch anyway.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
He wants to close the one step distance between the two of them, and kiss her, but his fear keeps him rooted to his spot. He puts his hands behind his back- they’re shaking, though he’s not sure whether it’s from fear or tiredness or cold or from the adrenaline of the wish to sweep Byleth away from the horrors of this war, because goddess knows she’s an angel sent from the goddess herself and doesn’t deserve any of this.

“Maybe you can try talking to some other people? Annette, for example, suffered without a father for many years. And Ashe- his father died in most unfortunate circumstances as well. And of course, you can always talk to me.”  
  
“I will.”  
  
“Good night, Felix.”  
  
“Good night, Byleth,” he offers, with a smile that comes from his heart.

* * *

If there is one thing that Felix hates, it’s asking other people for help. It’s been almost six weeks since his father has died, and though he managed to talk out some of his feelings with Byleth, there is still a strange emptiness in his chest where his father used to be.

He doesn’t want to bother Byleth again- well, he _does_ , but he knows she’s busy, and he knows that he is unlikely to be able to hold his feelings back from her if they’re in close quarters once again. He and Annette have complained enough about fathers that prioritised the prince over themselves, so he’s not sure that Annette would be able to offer any new insight into this new situation.

With Byleth and Annette off the list, that leaves Ashe. Felix and the archer have never been particularly close- once or twice discussing books, though those conversations often ended in arguments. Ashe was much more friendly with Ingrid, though Felix doesn’t want to talk to Ingrid for advice on how to talk to Ashe.

So Felix tracks him down to his usual hiding spot in the back of the library. Ashe sits on one of the rickety wooden chairs, though he seems to have it perfectly balanced. He holds a heavier looking green textbook in his hands, engrossed in thought.

Felix almost feels bad about disturbing him, as he sits down in the chair opposite, folding his arms. Ashe looks up from the book, makes eye contact with Felix, nods, and goes back to reading. When Felix continues to stare him down, he sets the book down.

“Is there something I can help you with, Felix?” He is too friendly for his own good, Felix thinks, trying not to scowl too much.

“I wanted to talk to you about something, but if you’re too busy, I can come back later.”  
  
“No, it’s okay. I’ve read this one before,” Ashe says, motioning towards the book. Felix notes that it’s the accursed _Loog and the Maiden of Wind_ \- the book based on the lives of his and Dimitri’s real ancestors.

“It’s about your father. Lonato, that is.”

“Ah.” There is understanding in Ashe’s voice, and that scares Felix more than anything else. Ashe can read him well, better than most, which Felix finds strange considering they’ve barely interacted with each other, even during their time at the Officer’s Academy.

“How did you deal with it when he died? How can you balance the fact that he was your father and he cared for you and loved you with the fact that he…”  
  
“Did some bad things?” Ashe supplies, and Felix merely nods, because he can hear the crack in his voice and feel the tears stinging at the back of his eyes again.

“Well, it’s been six years since… since Lonato died. So I’ve had a lot more time to process than you. So my first recommendation is that you don’t expect an overnight cure.”  
  
“I’ve that’s the sort of shit advice you’re going to give me, I’m leaving,” Felix warns.

“That’s just the first step! Listening to your friends is another step. But seriously… I wrote Lonato a letter. I’m not sure how sensible that was, but it did feel good. I threw it into the fire in the classroom later on, once I felt that I could let go.”  
  
“I could do that. That sounds… like a good idea. I have a lot of things I wished I had said to my father.”  
  
“It kind of felt like… he could see what I wanted to say.”

“Yeah. I might try that,” Felix agrees. It was better than what Sylvain was saying anyway- while he’s almost certain his friend was joking, his advice of choice was to go into the village and flirt with some of the girls.

“I’m sure you’ve heard this from almost everyone at this point, but you can always come and talk to me. I will always have an ear to lend for my friends,” Ashe beams.

“Uh, thanks,” Felix mutters, and before he can think to do anything else, he dashes out of the library, heading back towards the dorms. Most of them are empty now- a bittersweet reminder that not everyone made it back to Garreg Mach- certainly not most of those who were from the Empire.

He sits at his desk- covered with a thin layer of dust from so many years of disuse that he hasn’t been bothered to clean. It feels like his old days at the academy- writing letters home because he feels like he _has_ to, and Dimitri will shout at him if he doesn’t ‘give Rodrigue the respect he deserves’.

But Felix picks up his pen and parchment, and writes to his father, on his own terms, detailing every little part of his life that he was unhappy with. And he writes every good memory too- the first snows of the year, the few times they went horse riding together, the fancy imported sword he was given for his last birthday. And then Felix tucks the letter into a book on a high shelf, and tries to forget.


	4. Chapter 4

Sometimes, Byleth finds Dedue miles away from Dimitri’s side, and every time this comes as a surprise. The Duscur man is so devoted to the prince, and it puts a smile on Byleth’s face to see him enjoying time to himself. Most recently, she has seen him in the library with Ashe, or the kitchens with Mercedes, and she even spotted him and Dorothea in the market once, picking up supplies for a night of games that Sylvain planned.

Today, she finds him in the greenhouse, kneeling on the floor with Marianne beside him. The two are crouched over a particularly small plant, with Dedue showing Marianne how to take care of it. Beside them is a basket of freshly harvested vegetables- carrots and parsnips and potatoes for tonight’s dinner. Byleth is glad to see these two together- both too shy on the whole to speak to many of the other old members of the Blue Lions house.

The two don’t even notice Byleth’s presence until she quietly calls for Dedue, causing Marianne to nearly jump out of her skin. The girl excuses herself, telling Dedue that she’d see him later. Byleth takes her place on the floor, sitting a lot less elegantly than Marianne had been.

“Dimitri is with Manuela again. I’ve heard from her that he has been doing a lot better recently,” Byleth explains.

“Yes, I would agree. Though Rodrigue’s death took a toll on him, it was also a wakeup call. And since we took back Fhirdiad, and got him back on the throne, he’s been looking a lot stronger physically as well.”  
  
“I can’t thank you enough for all your hard work, Dedue. I don’t know what we would have done without you.”

“You do not need to flatter me, professor,” Dedue mumbles. “I am merely doing my job. And it is not just myself that is helping His Highness.”

“Gilbert too. I must make an effort to thank him for his support too.”  
  
“And also Lady Marianne. She and His Highness have become friends in the last few months. According to her, they got on well at the Officer’s Academy.”

“I hadn’t heard of that,” Byleth says, tapping her fingers against the cold stone floor. “I’m glad, though. Both of them could do with a little more happiness in their lives.”

“Again, I agree with you wholeheartedly, Professor.”

Dedue gets up to wash the vegetables under the tap at the back of the greenhouse, Byleth watching him as he goes. Admittedly, she knows little of Duscur, only what Dedue himself has told her, but after the war, she would love to visit the region, and learn more of the culture. Like her, Dedue has no remaining family, what little family they did have ripped away by this war, something she considers to have been going on far longer than Edelgard’s first invasion of Garreg Mach.

“How are you doing, Dedue?” Byleth asks when he re-joins her. “I feel like you rarely talk about yourself.”  
  
“I am doing as well as can be expected. I am tired, yes, but mostly I am looking forward to this war being over.”  
  
“I feel that is a commonly held sentiment.”  
  
“We march to Fort Merceus tomorrow. That will be an important battle for all of us.”  
  
“I worry that it will be a lot more difficult than we imagine. From our intelligence, we know the Fort is well reinforced, but I suppose that they will have an idea we will be coming, and be prepared to counterattack. They will outpower us, so we have to… have a better strategy, I suppose.”  
  
“Will you be putting His Majesty on the frontlines again?”  
  
“I have never put him on the frontlines. He just… goes, and I have no way of stopping him. I always have Mercedes to keep an eye on him, though. Perhaps this time, I could pair him up with Marianne? If they are good friends, as you say, then the chances of them keeping each other safe on the battlefield are high. Much higher than if I have to make sure Mercedes is looking after him as well as everyone else.”  
  
“That sounds like a wonderful strategy, Professor. If you’ll excuse me, though, I have to go. I am on dinner duty tonight.” Dedue lifts the basket of vegetables, and offers a hand for Byleth to get up.

“Sorry for keeping you with my mumbling. I’ll see you at dinner, or if not, on tomorrow’s march. Get some good rest.”  
  
“I will. And… thank you, Professor, for all _you’ve_ done. Do not underestimate your role in this war.”  
  
Byleth watches him go, until he is well out of sight. If there is one person in this army she could not live without, it would be Dedue. From the first day of teaching all those years ago, Dedue has been the most calming force in her life. Though he may have been difficult to hold a conversation with, she often found herself seeking out his company just to sit with him, and absorb the calming aura that he seemed to emit. 

Perhaps, Byleth wonders, that the saying about those who have suffered most having the kindest hearts is true.

* * *

With multiple military strongholds taken, there is only one thing left to do. Fort Merceus and Arianrhod fall from Imperial force when they attack, meaning the Faerghus army have points of defence all across Fódlan. The last thing they need to do is go to Enbarr, and take down Edelgard and her inner guard once and for all.

For the first time, Byleth’s worry has been keeping her up at night. Confidence has been key the whole duration of the war, but now she’s not sure they’ll be able to manage the final fights. Not only do they have to fight Edelgard, but she is certain that they will meet Hubert at the gates of the capital, a last stand by the Emperor to keep them out.

Strategizing keeps her up late at night. She pours over documents for hours, double checking inventories and battalions, because once they leave Garreg Mach, they probably won’t be back. That thought terrifies her more than anything else- if she lost any of her former students now, she’s not sure what she would do. Sure, in her first few months as a teacher she and her father had joked about failing them if they died on a mission, but now…

They’re no longer her students, but comrades in arms, her friends. If anyone died, or even got badly injured, Byleth would never forgive herself. She wants to see every single person make it back to Garreg Mach at the end of the war, so she can thank everyone properly, so she can send them on their way home herself.

When the morning bell rings, Byleth forces herself out of bed. It was a mostly sleepless night, simply snatching a few minutes here and there. She looks as terrible as she feels, putting her armour on despite knowing there will be no threat. There is no reason to expect any threats whatsoever, now they have control of most of Fódlan. The Imperial army will be waiting in Enbarr, strengthening their forces and preparing for an all-out battle.

Byleth eats breakfast alone, sitting at a faraway table in a chair empty of neighbours. Dimitri and Mercedes wish her a good morning, and she spots Ingrid and Dorothea eating together near the counter. It makes her glad to see everyone still getting on as normal- at least some of them aren’t outwardly showing any apprehension at travelling to Enbarr.

With her breakfast polished off, Byleth heads outside, and settles on the short pier that leads out into the middle of the fishing pond. She thought of fishing this morning, but recently the pain in her chest from the loss of Jeralt has been rising to the surface. Fishing was one of the pastimes they enjoyed together, and to enjoy it now… well, Byleth reckons it would feel wrong,

Instead, she takes her shoes off, and dips her feet into the cool water below. By now, the sun is approaching its full height in the sky, glaring down upon her and the few guards in the vicinity. For a while, Byleth empties her head of thoughts, and stares into the water under her. After a while, one of the monastery cats appears, a silky grey kitten, and settles itself on her lap to take its late morning nap.

Over an hour passes and Byleth is completely alone, until she sees a familiar face reflected in the water. Felix hovers behind her, not saying anything, his usual scowl painted on otherwise delicate features.

“Good morning,” Byleth offers.

“Everyone is looking for you,” Felix says.   
  
“I’m not hiding,” she answers simply, to which Felix huffs, and settles himself cross-legged beside her.

“I know. That’s why I found you, and no one else did. They all say you’re difficult to read, but… well, I disagree. I’ve always been able to understand you, right from the beginning.”  
  
“Really?” Byleth asks, turning her head to get a good look at him. His face is honest when he nods. “I’m glad someone understands me. For as long as I can remember it’s been “what’s wrong, Byleth?” and “why aren’t you happy, Byleth?”. I can’t help the way my face works. Sometimes I’m just… sometimes I don’t feel anything at all.” Her fingers scratch at the head of the kitten, which crawls off her knee and into the small gap between her and Felix’s legs.

“Not once have I had an issue with understanding your expressions. Well, maybe that time at the Goddess Tower, but…”  
  
“That was different,” Byleth finishes, a soft smile gracing her lips. She leans forward, elbows on knees, face between her palms.

“We leave here next week. Forever.”  
  
“I know. I’m…”  
  
“Scared?” Felix supplies, but with none of the snark that would usually come with that word.

“Yes,” Byleth admits. “I don’t want to fail now; I don’t want to lose anyone. I _can’t_ lose anyone.”

“You know we all fight to protect each other, as well as to advance? I’d say more the former than the latter for most of us.”  
  
“I know. And I trust you. All of you. I know you’ll all make it back here safely.”  
  
“Why… why does that sound like you’re planning to… to not come back?” Felix asks, with a tone of voice that Byleth isn’t convinced she’s heard from him before. He leans forward too, so his face is level with hers. He’s taking this opportunity to be close to her, knowing that it may be his last chance.

“No, I am. I don’t want to die. I’ve died before- twice. Neither were fun, or experiences I wish to repeat. I have a lot I still want to do before I do eventually die.”

“Like what?” Felix asks, her statement sparking genuine curiosity in him.

Byleth takes a deep breath, realising just how close she and Felix have become in the last few minutes. She can feel his breath tickling her cheek, and her eyes can’t help but flicker from his lips up to his eyes, those amber eyes that she’s found herself thinking about on more than one occasion.

“Well,” she begins, not really sure where she’s going with this sentence. “I want to travel again. See the bits of Fódlan I missed before, and visit Brigid and Dagda and Sreng and Almyra... I have to take care of the church. I have to take care of Fódlan, really, if Lady Rhea is too poorly or… or dead when we find her.”

“Did you ever think about…” Felix begins, but he trails off, because he’s verging into dangerous territory that he’s not sure he can rescue himself from.

“Think about what?”  
  
“No, never mind.”  
  
“Felix…”  
  
“Byleth.”

There’s a silence, a pause that feels way too long for both of them. Then Felix leans forward, closing the small distance between them, and presses his lips against hers. Her lips are chapped from being outside for so long, but Felix doesn’t care, because he’s wanted to do this for so long, and nothing will stop him now.

To his great surprise, Byleth’s hand (surprisingly soft, considering how long she’s been holding a sword) reaches up to his cheek, pulling him in closer as she returns the kiss with a surprising amount of fervour. He has to shift himself closer to her in order to keep up, his tongue swiping across her bottom lip. Before he has a chance to do anything else, there’s a yowl from between them, as the kitten, squished by their thighs, jumps out of the way and into the water.

Following the splashing sound, Byleth pulls away from him with a gasp, her eyes going straight to the ripples in the water where the cat fell. Before he can think to do otherwise, Felix reaches forward blindly into the water, and pulls the screeching kitten from the pond. He sets it back on the pier, and it scampers off, still howling but otherwise fine.

Felix looks to Byleth, who he finds to be looking right back at him, and she bursts into laughter. This is the only time Felix has ever heard her laugh in all the time he’s known her, and it’s such a beautiful sound. Perhaps he only thinks this because he is truly, deeply in love with her, but Felix is certain that it is true. He finds himself laughing too, something he can barely remember doing in the last ten years of his life.

“That was… unexpected,” Byleth says, the smile not fading from her face. “Though… I liked it.”  
  
“I have wanted to kiss you for so long,” he mumbles, averting his eyes to the fishing pond.

“I’m glad you did. That was something else I wanted to do, but I didn’t want to tell you that.”

“Goddess,” Felix says with a grin, leaning in to give her another quick kiss.

“Okay, okay. I thought people were looking for me? We should head back before they start to get suspicious.”  
  
“Shit,” he curses, though he pulls himself to his feet. “I’ll go on ahead. Tell them I found you, and you’re on the way.”  
  
“Alright. I’ll see you in the cardinal’s room in ten minutes, then.”  
  
“Okay.”

Felix hovers for far too long, keeping eye contact with Byleth, admiring just how pretty she is. It wasn’t so long ago really that he swore to her that he would always be more comfortable with swords than with women, and while that may still hold true, he takes back every other thing he said to Byleth that night in the Goddess Tower. He is made of more than blades, battle and blood- he is also made of love.


	5. Chapter 5

It takes all of thirty hours after kissing Byleth for Felix to begin to panic. He hasn’t seen her for at least twenty-eight of those hours, and he’s terrified that he’s scared her off. When he asks Seteth about her whereabouts (subtly, so as not to raise suspicion), he reports that Byleth has been in her office all day yesterday and all day today. While they had lunch together after the war meeting, she did disappear off in the direction of her office, though that hasn’t stopped Felix from worrying.

After dinner, in the thirty-first hour post kiss, Felix swallows his nerves, and heads along the corridor of the dorms. He doesn’t want to ask for help, but there is only one person he can think of that will help him calm down in this situation, so he steels his nerves and knocks on Ingrid’s door.

After a few seconds, she opens the door, looking rather bewildered to see who her evening guest is. From her attire, Felix can guess that she was ready for bed, and he swallows hard.

“Are you busy?” He mumbles, and with a roll of her eyes, Ingrid moves aside and lets him in, pulling out the chair from her desk for him to sit in. She sits on the edge of her bed, hands folded neatly in her lap.

“What’s the matter?”  
  
“If I tell you something… or ask you something, I guess, do you promise not to tell Sylvain?”

“You know I can’t promise that. But I’ll not tell him unless it’s life threatening.”  
  
“Ugh, fine.”  
  
“What are you coming to me for advice about anyway? You’ve _never_ come to me for advice,” Ingrid laughs.

“I want to know how I get a girlfriend. I’m asking you because you have one.”

Ingrid’s face changes, from that of placid curiosity to total glee in two seconds flat. It is a grin that Felix has never once seen his friend bear, and one that he is not so happy is because of him asking for advice. Ingrid gets up, opens the door a crack, sticking her head out into the corridor.

“Sylvain!” She yells, in a tone Felix recognises as the one she uses when he’s done something stupid.

“Ingrid, what the fuck? I’m leaving.”  
  
“No you are not! Stay in that seat, or I _will_ maim you.”  
  
Out of the four of them, Ingrid is by far the most intimidating. Though Felix’s scowl may be off putting to most, it is Ingrid that has the authority to follow through with her threats. As she waits by the door, Felix runs through his options- either he sits here and suffers at the hands of both Ingrid _and_ Sylvain, or he makes a run for it now- he reckons he can over power her, but she’s definitely faster than him, and he ends up staying where he is.

Sylvain slopes into the room, and Ingrid closes the door behind him, sitting back on her bed. She pats the space beside her, and Sylvain falls down onto the duvet. His eyes flit from Ingrid to Felix and then to the door, having the same thought process that Felix just had.

“What have I done this time?” Sylvain asks eventually. “Must have been something bad to invoke the wrath of both you and Felix. I’ve been in the library literally all day. I haven’t even seen a girl today, apart from-“  
  
“You haven’t done anything, actually. Felix here asked me for advice, and I thought you would be able to weigh in.”

“That’s a first,” Sylvain laughs. “Is dear old Felix having girl problems?”  
  
“Yes,” Ingrid says, a smirk appearing on her face. Felix averts his eyes- this whole situation is already far too much.

“What? No way! Who does Felix have a crush on? No wait, let me guess.”  
  
“I’m not telling you,” Felix says, glaring at Sylvain. “I asked for Ingrid’s help because she actually has managed to get a girlfriend, while you just have flings that don’t last longer than a week.”  
  
Ingrid and Sylvain share a glance at that- clearly, there is something that they’re not telling him. Part of him doesn’t care, but another part of him worries that this may have something to do with Byleth, so he opens his mouth, and opens the can of worms.

“I’ll tell you if you tell me what your weird glances are about.” Sylvain sighs.

“Fine. Well, my best advice for you is to not embarrass yourself in front of a girl by crying on her when she asks about your behaviour and then asking her to marry you.”  
  
“ _Goddess_ , who did you ask to marry you?”  
  
“Mercedes.”  
  
“Are you insane?” Felix asks. At least he’s doing better than that- Byleth was certainly receptive to his advances, more so than he was expecting.

“Well, she said yes, so I guess that counts for something.”  
  
“This is my favourite thing that has ever happened here,” Ingrid chips in. “Forget the war, and everything dramatic that happened at the Officer’s Academy- Sylvain asking Mercedes to marry him because she was nice to him for five minutes is my number one.”  
  
“This is literally unbelievable. You’re making this up,” Felix demands, but Sylvain holds his left hand up, and sure enough, there’s a ring there, with the Crest of Lamine etched into the silver.

“Sylvain has been obsessing over Mercedes for years,” Ingrid explains. “Turns out she liked him too. While they could’ve gone about their courtship in a more normal way, they’ll probably be happy.”  
  
“She said I looked handsome even when I was sad!”  
  
“I will never understand you, Sylvain,” Felix says, rolling her eyes at him.

“Enough about me. It’s your turn.”  
  
“Ugh. I don’t know why I came here in the first place. You two are just going to laugh at me.”  
  
“I swear, we won’t,” Ingrid soothes, her voice urging him on. “Who is it? I don’t think we can help you until you tell us.” Felix takes a deep breath.

“Byleth.”  
  
Ingrid and Sylvain share another look, this time panicked. Goddess, what is it now? Why do those two always know something that he doesn’t? It’s a nightmare, he thinks, opening up like this only for them to share a glance that says more than words convey.

“What is it now?” He asks, folding his arms.

“Nothing!” Ingrid excuses. “Thank you for telling us.”  
  
“That wasn’t a look of surprise, that was an “oh shit” look, and I want to know why.”  
  
“Listen, I don’t want to tell you this,” Sylvain begins, “but I feel like I have to.”  
  
“You don’t need to tell him anything, Sylvain,” Ingrid warns through gritted teeth.

“If you two don’t get your stories straight, I’m going to leave, and I’ll probably do something as stupid as Sylvain.”  
  
“I’m sorry Felix,” Ingrid says. “We don’t mean to… be so negative. But… Dimitri was speaking to us last week on the same subject. He plans to propose to the Professor after the war is over.”  
  
“And what, because he’s king now makes my feelings invalid? Makes Byleth’s feelings invalid? You know I came here to find out how to put together a sentence on how to ask her to court, and you tell me I can’t, because the boar wants her hand?”  
  
“Well, not exactly. I don’t think anyone could stop you. But since you’re now a Duke, you’ll have to go about everything properly,” Sylvain advises. “Go through the whole courting process, you know the drill.”

“You know I don’t give a fuck about the courting process, and I never have. And Byleth isn’t from nobility either, so she won’t care.”  
  
“Well, I guess we can help you, because the worst that will happen is that Dimitri will propose to her anyway and she’ll say no,” Ingrid mumbles, though she looks uncomfortable at the prospect.

“Hey, what makes you so certain that she… would say no to Dimitri and yes to you?” Sylvain asks, and Felix feels his insides shrivel up. He doesn’t want to tell them about the kiss, because that was a moment between himself and Byleth, and he can’t share that moment with his friends.

“What makes _you_ so certain that she’d say yes to Dimitri and no to me?” He retorts, causing Ingrid to sigh.

“Well, Felix, the Professor and Dimitri are very close, and have been even from the academy days. He’s the King of Faerghus, and now he’s not… well, he’s had a bath and done his hair, so he’s hot now. You’re the Duke of the coldest region in Faerghus, and are always grumpy, so I can see why she’d pick Dimitri over you. No offence,” Ingrid explains.

“Well, you’re not into men, so I don’t think your opinion on if Dimitri is hot and I’m… not matters.”  
  
“You asked for my help!”  
  
“Yeah because you’re dating Dorothea, and only the goddess knows how, because she’s a lot prettier than you.”  
  
“How dare you, Felix Hugo Fraldarius. I’ll have you know, Dorothea asked _me_ , not the other way around. If you keep being rude, you’ll be a virgin all your life!” Felix swallows hard- there is something he needs to tell her about that, but the thought makes him a little ill.  
  
“My sex life is nothing to do with you, Ingrid.”  
  
“Well, without my help, you’ll never have one, because you’re too rude to ever talk to a woman normally!”  
  
“Well,” Felix repeats back at her, deciding he’s just going to have to tell her because he has no other ammo left, “your girlfriend thinks otherwise!”  
  
Silence. Sylvain’s jaw drops- he knew all along, but kept his mouth shut out of fear of mutilation from both Ingrid and Felix. Ingrid’s anger melts away, replaced with shock. Felix stands, heading for the door, because clearly he’s crossed a line, and he’s scared that he’s lost his friendship with Ingrid.

“Explain yourself, Fraldarius,” she spits, and with a sigh, he sits back down.

“It was back at the academy, so don’t worry. You know what Dorothea is like. Well, was like. Now she’s super devoted to you, and I… I’m happy for you, Ingrid.”  
  
“This has been eating at him for years,” Sylvain tells her in a stage whisper. “Ever since you told us that you had feelings for her, he’s been dying trying not to tell you.”  
  
“So… you slept with her, back at the academy?” Ingrid asks.

“Yes.”  
  
“I can’t be angry with you about that. I just wish you hadn’t told me as if it had been last week or something.”

“Sorry,” Felix mumbles, staring at the wooden floor. He can barely lift his head now, the shame of first of all having to ask for help to ask a girl out, and then the admission that six years ago, in the most awkward way possible, he lost his virginity to Ingrid’s now girlfriend.

“Now you’re both calm, I think we can go back to the discussion,” Sylvain says, the mediator for once- a role Felix is certain he’s not used to.

“How do I ask her to court me?” Felix repeats, trying his best to keep his voice measured.

“Admit your feelings-“ Ingrid begins, but Felix doesn’t want to talk about his feelings with Byleth, so he sighs instead, and tells them about the incident from yesterday.

“I think she already knows my feelings, considering I kissed her yesterday.”  
  
“Felix has a lot more game than I expected,” Sylvain laughs, earning him another trademark Felix glare.

“Then simply… ask to court her. The Professor will appreciate you getting straight to the point,” Ingrid suggests. Felix nods, breathing a sigh of relief that his question has _finally_ been answered.

“Thanks. I’ll try that.”  
  
“We leave for Enbarr soon. Don’t take too long, or… Dimitri may get there before you.”  
  
“He better not,” Felix mutters. “I’ll go now.”  
  
“It’s late,” Ingrid reminds him.   
  
“She won’t be asleep.”  
  
“Good luck, then.”

With a mumbled thanks, and Ingrid’s words ringing in his ears, Felix leaves the dormitories, and heads towards the offices on the second floor. It’s quite a trek from where he is currently, but he’s determined to talk to Byleth (and maybe kiss her again) before midnight. When he reaches her office, he feels nervous- his palms sweaty and his breathing like he’s ran for four miles. He knocks on the door, not sure that she’s even in there.

“Come in,” he hears, and steeling his nerves, he enters her office.

“Sorry to disturb you,” Felix offers in the way of a greeting, but when Byleth’s face lights up, his nerves melt away.

“You’re not. I’m very nearly finished for the night, so if you give me just five minutes, I’m all yours.”  
  
“Okay.”  
  
Felix takes a seat across from her desk. There’s something very similar about this position- like when they were in the Officer’s Academy, and her students would sit across from her in the classroom. He watches as she writes, brow furrowed, and eyes focussed on her papers. True to her word, she only takes a few minutes, and then the papers are tidied away. Byleth raises her head towards him, and he’s greeted with that smile once again.

“To what do I owe the honour so late at night?”  
  
“I wanted to see you. And ask you something.”  
  
“I’m all ears,” Byleth says, coming around from behind her desk to lean on the front of it- making the situation a lot less formal.

“I heard that… that Dimitri is planning to ask for your hand in marriage after the war.”  
  
“Ah.”  
  
“Is that it?”  
  
“Well, you haven’t asked me anything yet, and you said you were, so I’m waiting.”  
  
“Ugh. Does the fact that the boar wishes to marry you not bother you?”

“It would not be the first proposal I have received, and I am certain that if he does propose marriage to me, he will not be the last,” she explains, settling her hands on either side of her. “I think this bothers you much more than it does me.”  
  
“W-well…”  
  
“It’s okay, Felix. I have heard of this before, from Sylvain and Ingrid. They thought they were doing me a kindness by warning me in advance, so that I could say the right thing. I’ve already figured out how I’ll let him down gently.”  
  
“So… you don’t want to marry him?” Felix says, both relieved that he still has a chance, and smug that he was right, and Ingrid was wrong.

“No,” she says simply.

“Ah.”  
  
“Is there something _you_ want to ask me, Felix?” There is, and she knows it, but his heart is in his throat and he’s not sure he can form real words. Felix stands, so he’s on a more equal footing with Byleth.

“Sylvain advised that I do this properly, because… well.” He clears his throat, and reaches into his pocket to pull out a small silver chain bracelet, with a tag that bears the crest of Fraldarius. It’s been there for weeks, waiting for Felix to build up his nerve. His father gave it to him before he left home, a parting gift that means a lot more to him now than it did then.

Felix doesn’t want to think about the other piece of jewellery in his pocket.

“House Fraldarius of the Holy Kingdom of Faerghus would like to extend an invitation of courtship from Duke Felix Hugo Fraldarius to Byleth Eisner, deputy Archbishop of the Church of Seiros. Do you accept?” Felix manages not to roll his eyes through his short speech, something he remembers from when Glenn and Ingrid were arranged to be married.

“I accept.”

“Good,” Felix says, gloating to a mental version of Ingrid and Sylvain. Byleth holds her hand out, and Felix fastens the bracelet around her wrist. He breathes an audible sigh of relief, and takes a step towards Byleth, pulling her close to his chest. Her arms link around his neck, fitting together like two puzzle pieces.

“I’m glad you picked me,” he mumbles into her hair.

“I couldn’t imagine picking someone else. Though… I don’t want to have a formal courtship. I’m not a noble, so… it’s strange to me.”  
  
“That’s what I told Sylvain and Ingrid!” Felix says, pulling back just enough that he can see her face, but they still are close. “But your acceptance of my offer of courtship is just words. It doesn’t really mean anything. I never really wanted to court anyone anyway.”  
  
“Can I still kiss you, or is this a no touching sort of courtship?” Byleth asks, a smirk forming on her mouth.

“Hm, I think we can arrange that,” Felix replies, a hint of a laugh in his voice as he leans down to claim her lips with his.

In the privacy of her office, Felix can kiss her the way he wished to yesterday, without the embarrassment of being seen by other people. His hands are on her waist, pulling her flush to his body. It takes a moment for him to realise that her tongue is in his mouth, and he can feel heat rise in his face. Of course he was never going to be the dominant one in this relationship, and he should have seen that coming a mile off.

Nevertheless, he can’t let her take all the control, so slowly, he edges them both backwards, into her desk. Following his cues, she leans backwards onto the desk, with him hovering over her. His mouth leaves hers, and he trails hot kisses along her jaw, and down her neck, enticed by the distracting amount of cleavage her outfit displays.   
  
Byleth’s hands travel into his hair, pulling the ribbon that holds his ponytail and allowing his hair to cascade around his shoulders. He sucks hard on her neck, determined to show that Byleth is _his_ , not the boar’s, not anyone else’s. That she chose him, that it is him that’s on top of her on her desk, and- saints, she’s just wrapped her legs around his waist.

Felix can’t help the sound that falls from his mouth when she does that, and her eyes open, searching for something within his own. She lifts her head to kiss him again, this time feather light, yet insistent. Sothis, he looks beautiful like this, she thinks, chest heaving, eyes darkened by something she can’t quite name, with his hair framing his face like it does now.

Carefully, his hands settle on the desk beside her head, and once again, he is unsure on how to proceed. Byleth is an enigma, sure, but he was so certain that he had figured her out. Now, it is all he can do to stop his hands shaking when he gazes upon her face. Instead of him doing anything, he keeps himself steady as her hands travel down to unbuckle his armour, to unbutton his jacket. Her fingers are surprisingly nimble, and soon his jacket is discarded on the floor.

She pushes him back, and sits up, legs still wrapped around him. Taking the hint, his hands travel around her back, and he sets about untying her corset. This isn’t something he’s ever had to do before, but the armoured garment comes off with more ease than he expected. As it hits the floor, tossed in a corner beside his coat, Felix’s worst nightmare becomes apparent- there’s a knock at the door.

They freeze, careful not to make a sound. Slowly, she removes one leg from around him, and then the other, and brings her arms back down to her lap. Felix moves aside, and lets her go to the door. He gathers the few items of shed clothing, and hides behind the door.

“Good evening, Professor,” comes Dimitri’s baritone, and Felix rolls his eyes- of course it would be the boar at this time of night.

“Hello, Dimitri. Is there something I can help you with?” Felix has to give her this- her voice isn’t shaking at all, betraying nothing of what was about to happen.

“Just wanted to check in on how preparations are going for the march before I head to bed.”  
  
“They’re going well. I was about to head to bed myself, actually. I think we’ll be finished preparations by dinner tomorrow.”  
  
“How about I walk you to your room?”  
  
“No need. I still have a few things to tidy up here. But thank you for the offer.”  
  
“Professor, pardon my rudeness, but is that…” Felix can’t see what’s happening, but there’s a soft jingle of metal, and he assumes Dimitri has seen her bracelet. Ha, he thinks, that’s another victory for him. “This is a courtship bracelet, correct?”  
  
“Yes,” Byleth answers.

“From… House Fraldarius.”  
  
“Correct.”  
  
“Wonderful!” Dimitri says. “I am ever so glad to hear that two of my best friends are courting. Congratulations.”  
  
“Oh, thank you.”  
  
“Well, I’ll be off,” Dimitri says, and Byleth can’t help but notice that his eyes flicker to her neck, where the mark Felix left is no doubt reddening, and her state of almost undress. “Good night, Professor. See you in the morning.”  
  
“Sleep well, Dimitri.”

When the door closes, Felix sighs in relief. He passes her corset back to her, and she hangs it on the back of her chair, looking out the window. Carefully, he moves to beside her, setting a hand on her shoulder. Her gaze flickers up to him, and she once again offers that beautiful smile.

“You should go to bed too.”  
  
“The boar will hear me come in, and he’ll know where I was.”  
  
“I know you’re trying to come to my room, but Dedue is beside me, and he’ll tell Dimitri too.”  
  
“Shit. Why is this so inconvenient?”  
  
“When the war is over… then we won’t need to worry.”  
  
“We can head to the Fraldarius estate. I’m the only one that lives there anymore. We’ll have the whole place to ourselves.”  
  
“Sounds like an excellent plan to me. But seriously, Felix, you should head to bed. If Dimitri asks you where you were, just lie. Sylvain will back you up if you need defence.”  
  
“Alright. Will I see you tomorrow?” Felix asks, putting his jacket back on.   
  
“Yes. But not here. Shall we have breakfast together?”  
  
“Sure.”  
  
“I’ll see you there, then.”  
  
Felix leans down for one last kiss, lingering for longer than he should. With a giggle, so uncharacteristic of her, Byleth shoves him out of her office. He can’t stop the smile on his face as he heads back to his room. The wooden floorboards creak under his weight, and as he passes Ingrid’s room, the door opens, and Sylvain emerges.

“Well?” He asks, but Felix can tell from the grin on his face that he already knows how it went.

“It was good.”  
  
“I can tell from your lovely hair being down. Did you…” Sylvain suggests with a raised eyebrow.

“No. The boar interrupted us. He knows that we… we’re courting now, so he’s hardly likely to make a move on her.”  
  
“Good for you! Aw, Felix I am so proud of you.”  
  
“Shut it, Sylvain.”


	6. Chapter 6

Enbarr is silent when they enter. There seems to be no signs of civilians still in their houses, which comes as a relief. It seems like the Imperial Army has had the foresight to evacuate the citizens, leaving only lines and lines of their army for them to fight through. They have Demonic Beasts too, Byleth notices. That was _not_ something she had planned for, and she quickly makes some mental recalculations.

“You better not die,” Felix mutters, stepping into her peripheral vision. Perhaps it was selfish of her to keep him close by to her, but she rationalises her decision as concentrating their firepower. Besides, Dimitri is here too, and technically, Felix is fulfilling his noble duty of protecting the king. With the Aegis Shield on his arm, Felix steps in front of Dimitri, armed and ready to fight.

“I have no intention of it, as you know.”  
  
“Both of you stay alive and uninjured. I require both of your help after this war,” says Dimitri.

“There’s no way we’ll lose now. We’ve come too far,” Byleth says, grip on the Sword of the Creator whitening her knuckles. “Let’s go.”  
  
As soon as she steps forward, the enemies begin their charge in earnest. The Faerghus army forge through, cutting down soldiers and cavalry and Demonic Beasts. Byleth worries with every step forward- she can’t see all her forces, and fears for the lives of her former students. There is a lot of incoherent yelling from the other side of the battlefield, down some side streets of the capital. Voices she recognises as Annette and Catherine, but can’t figure out if those are good cries or bad.

A report comes down from Ingrid after an hour- at the gates of the Imperial Palace is Hubert, just as they had expected. During training activities at school, Hubert never posed much of a threat to her own class, but Byleth suspects that may have changed now. They have to be careful, and not rush towards him before they know if it’ll be safe or not.

The Death Knight is here. Byleth spots him before anyone else, and feels a cold sweat run down her back. She’s glad that Mercedes is far away right now- she would want to speak to the man that used to be her brother, and Byleth doesn’t want to think about how the Death Knight would respond.

With help from Dorothea and Cyril, the Death Knight is felled, and Byleth relaxes. From what she can see, there is a straight path from here to the gates of the palace. Not too many enemies left, and even if reinforcements arrive, they’ll likely be in the palace with the gates closed. They’re nearly there, nearly at the finish line.

As she steps forward, an arrow is fired at her, though from where she can’t see. She supposes there is a ballista they didn’t know about, or maybe a sniper hidden in an upper floor of a building. Byleth is on the move immediately, knowing if she stays put, another arrow could easily find its way into her head. Felix and Dimitri are a little way behind, and her father’s mercenary troops have split, allowing her to sweep the area for any further threats.

There is a call from behind a building that one of the mercenaries found the sniper, and Byleth breathes a sigh of relief. That should be everyone- there’s no one else in view. She stands at the top of the Royal Way, and waits for the onslaught of attacks from the last line of defence. Shamir falls in behind her, and after a short scuffle, Felix arrives too, keen not to leave her side.

“The boar is with Sylvain. You need more protection than just Shamir,” Felix grumbles.

“She can protect herself better than you can,” the assassin scoffs, loosing an arrow into an enemy’s horse.

When Ingrid and Seteth fall in too, albeit above them, Byleth begins the charge, not waiting for anymore back up. With the Sword of the Creator in one hand and fire spells in the other, she takes down enemy after enemy, her allies doing the same. They’re nearly there, nearly at the gates, when everyone from the other side of Enbarr gathers, waiting patiently for the command.

Byleth whips the Sword of the Creator out, cutting down another enemy. Forward a little, Ingrid spears another one on her lance, and a well-timed Excalibur spell from Annette fells another. Then, from a passageway she can barely spot, an assassin jumps out, heavy sword in hand, coming straight for her. A blast of fire magic does nothing to deter him, and so she raises her sword, ready to defend herself. He’s coming too fast, though, and just as he strikes, there is a flash of blue in front of her as the hit is taken by someone else.  
  
“Felix!” She cries, watching in shock as he falls to the ground. An arrow flies into her assailant from behind her- it’s Ashe, with a worried look on his face.

Byleth falls to her knees beside Felix, her hands already glowing with healing magic as she cradles him in her arms. The gash from the sword has torn his clothes and into his flesh- some sort of sick miracle considering how many layers Felix is wearing. He’s bleeding considerably, and Byleth’s magic is doing little to stop the blood.

“It’s okay,” he offers.  
  
“No it’s not. You’re not allowed to die. Dimitri told you you’re not allowed to. _I_ say you’re not allowed to.”  
  
“I don’t mind. I’m dying protecting you.”  
  
“Shut up! What have you done with the real Felix? This is nothing like you.”  
  
“It’s okay, Byleth,” he mumbles, his voice mostly incoherent. He brings his hand, covered in blood, up to her face, and offers a smile. “You better win this, okay? I love you.”

And then Felix is gone.

Byleth doesn’t panic. Byleth is calm, because she knows she can fix this. It has been a while since she’s been forced to use the Divine Pulse. With more battles, she has become more practiced at strategy. There have been less casualties, less serious injuries, even when the stakes have been so much higher. She closes her eyes, and concentrates, and calls on the power of Sothis.

The world stops. Carefully, Byleth rewinds time, watching as the blood re-enters Felix’s body, as he stands, and jumps out of the way. As the assassin goes back down the alley, as the fire spell returns to her hand. The world stops again when Byleth decides that this is far enough back, nearly thirty seconds before she spotted the assassin.

Byleth whips the Sword of the Creator out, cutting down another enemy. Forward a little, Ingrid spears another one on her lance, and a well-timed Excalibur spell from Annette fells another. Knowing what comes next, Byleth swaps positions with Felix, who is very much still alive. Pulling on his sleeve, she drags him down the alley, sword held in front of her. The assassin comes running at her on cue, and she cuts him down in one slash of her sword.

Now they’re safe, and she ignores the puzzled look on Felix’s face. There is no way she can tell him what just happened, no words to explain what it felt like seeing him die in front of her. There is nothing she can say that will explain how her breath stopped when he told her he loved her, when he hasn’t said it. Is that the only time she’ll hear him say that? Goddess, she hopes not.

Felix holds her hand, determined not to let her go. There is something in her eyes that has changed, but he can’t tell what it is. Byleth knows something he doesn’t, that much he can tell. The mere thought of it scares him- she always tells him everything, keeps him informed of their plans. Even before he asked to court her, he had become akin to her right-hand man. When a spell hits her, winding her ever so slightly, her only reaction is to look over at him, to check that he’s still okay.

When the cry goes up that Hubert has been defeated and the gates to the palace are open, Byleth takes his face within her hands and presses a kiss to his lips. Truthfully, this is a little embarrassing for Felix, but he’s more worried about the fact that for only the second time ever, Byleth is crying.

* * *

In the dark of Byleth’s room, she can listen to the gentle consistency of Felix’s breathing. Her head rests in the crook of his neck, her hand on his bare chest. She’s convinced he’s asleep, his arms cradling her, until he carefully retracts from her, sliding out from under the covers. Byleth sits up, fear creeping in just the tiniest amount.

“Where are you going?” She whispers.

“Nowhere. I just wanted to put some of my clothes back on.” He lifts his underwear, and that black turtleneck he’s so fond of, and his trousers, and puts them all back on. “I may… go to my room to grab my nightclothes. I’m sorry.”  
  
“It’s okay. Come back soon,” Byleth mumbles. Her state of undress leaves her feeling particularly vulnerable, watching carefully as he pulls his boots back on.

“I promise,” he says, leaning in to kiss her.

And then he’s gone, the other side of her bed surprisingly cold without him there. She gets up herself, stretching out her tired muscles. She wonders how long it will take for her to stop feeling sore all the time- weeks, she supposes, or maybe even months. Her own nightdress is still neatly set at the bottom of her bed, and once she finds her underwear, thrown halfway across the room, she dresses herself, and clambers under the covers.

The celebrations for the end of the war are still in full swing, Byleth can tell. The cheers of the remnants of the army she’s sure will be heard all night, and she truly can’t blame them. It’s well deserved, after years of war and fighting. Dimitri could be seen that evening accompanied either by Dedue or Marianne, and Byleth found herself smiling- it was good to see that he was relying on his friends. The three of them were in the dining hall when she decided that this would be the perfect time to find Felix.

And Felix had clearly had the same idea as her, and she bumped into him on the way out of the dining hall. It had been an eventful few days for the two of them- Felix had been back in the training grounds before his wounds had even healed, and it was there that he presented Byleth with the other piece of jewellery his father had bestowed upon him. Truthfully, he wasn’t sure if she would accept the ring- it had barely been over a week from the start of their courtship, but she had, wholeheartedly.

There comes a knock to Byleth’s door, and with a sigh, she gets up to open it. There is Felix, in loose trousers and a cotton shirt, his hair down from the usual ponytail. He looks different- softer around the edges, perhaps. He sets about tidying up the mess he made earlier- Byleth’s shorts and tights and top all tossed in the direction of her desk. His jacket and white shirt are there too, his armour landing somewhere closer to the foot of the bed.

“Leave it, Felix. We can tidy in the morning.”

“Okay,” he mutters, and crawls into bed beside his now fiancée. The bed isn’t really big enough for two people, but they make do, Byleth squishing against the wall, or Felix pulling her close to his body.

“I managed not to bump into Sylvain or Dimitri on the way down. Or worse, Ingrid.”  
  
“You could have brought your clothes down here. Now you’ll have to walk back up in the morning.”  
  
“Damn,” Felix says. “Guess I’ll have to stay in here forever, then.”  
  
“I thought you wanted to go back home?”  
  
“Not really. I _have_ to go home. I’d much rather stay here with you.”  
  
“You could,” Byleth points out. “I hope to have the Officer’s Academy open within a few years, and if I’m Archbishop, I can hardly be the weapons instructor.”  
  
“As much as I would prefer to… I can’t leave the Duchy without a Duke.”  
  
“How very noble of you,” Byleth smiles, pressing a kiss to Felix’s forehead.

“Byleth… do you still wish to marry me? By the sounds of things, we’ll be apart more than we’re together.” There’s an expression on his face that she’s not at all used to- fear. Felix Fraldarius doesn’t experience fear, and yet it’s painted clearly on his face.

“I do,” she says, “so badly. I don’t care if we’re apart. It’s when we’re together that matters to me. And besides, we can write to each other all the time. We will make this work, Felix. It won’t be forever, anyway. I won’t be Archbishop until I die.”

“Is the Archbishop allowed to be married?” Felix wonders out loud.

“I actually asked Seteth about that before. When… when I first realised I had feelings for you. He said that there was no rule specifically against it, even though there is for priests and the like. It’s a loophole, per se. Besides, there haven’t been that many Archbishops of the Church of Seiros, so I could change rules if I needed to.”  
  
“Good,” Felix decides. “I didn’t want to be accused of desecrating a holy woman.”  
  
“I think there would be more to say about this holy woman desecrating Duke Fraldarius, don’t you think?” Byleth all but purrs. “Everyone knows you, but I’m not even officially Archbishop yet.”

“I’m not Duke Fraldarius when I’m with you. I’m just Felix.”  
  
“And that is my favourite sort of version of you.”  
  
“That being said…” Felix murmurs, twisting the ring on his finger. “I’m rather keen for you to become Duchess Fraldarius.” Byleth lets out a soft laugh.

“I’m excited to go to the Duchy. I’ve never been that far up north before.”  
  
“Don’t hold your breath for exciting views or a particularly nice house. House Fraldarius is like every other noble house.”  
  
“You forget that I’m a commoner, and I’m not an expert on noble houses. I don’t know anything at all. I didn’t even live in a regular building until I came to live here, as strange as that may sound.”  
  
“Your lifestyle definitely would’ve suited me more than mine did. I guess… it’s not all bad. It’s taken me a long time to realise that.”  
  
“If I marry you, do I automatically become a noble? Is that how it works?” Byleth asks, shifting a little as she feels tiredness fall on her eyelids.

“If?”  
  
“When,” she corrects.

“Yes,” Felix answers simply, placing a kiss on the crown of her head.

“I guess I’ll have to brush up on my etiquette.”  
  
“Etiquette is bullshit. Honestly, it is. Don’t worry about that. Besides, you’ll know all the local nobles- Sylvain, Ingrid, Annette, and obviously the boar. They won’t care.”

“You’re doing a good job at reassuring me about all of this.”  
  
“It’s something I’ve thought about for a while,” he admits, turning his head away from her. “There’s a lot about my future I hadn’t considered at all until I met you, Byleth. Well, until we returned here. And I know all of this has been so quick, but seriously, I don’t think I’ve ever felt anything in my life as strongly as I feel for you. So yeah, I’m looking forward to bringing you home, and spending as much time together as possible.”

When he turns his head back to her, her eyes are closed, her breathing steady. For once in her life, Byleth looks peaceful, brows not furrowed in worry. Felix knows it’s just him that notices these things about her, but he’s glad- it’s like it’s their little secret, how expressive she is when you really pay attention.

“I love you,” he whispers, gently kissing her goodnight. If this is how it’s going to be from now on… well, Felix could certainly get used to this.

* * *

Garreg Mach empties over the next month. First to go is Dimitri, accompanied by Dedue. They make their way to Fhirdiad, to begin the long process of the restoration of the kingdom. Ashe is next- not a surprise to Byleth, given that he still has younger siblings that rely on. Annette bids a teary farewell to Mercedes, who travels to Gautier territory on the arm of Sylvain, before the mage heads home herself, thankfully with Gilbert in tow.

Ingrid stays a little longer, on the verge of offering Dorothea a place in her own home. The Pegasus Knight departs alone, however, promising Dorothea that she’ll get everything sorted out. Byleth supposes there is a long conversation to be had with Count Galatea that she’d rather not be there for.

Marianne hovers around Garreg Mach for a while too, corresponding with her adoptive father and treating the more grievously injured before she heads back to Edmund territory. Catherine and Shamir disappear too, with only a word of their destination whispered to Byleth. Rhea too vanishes, though Seteth swears she is safe where she has ended up.

Eventually, only Manuela, Hanneman, Alois, Seteth and Flayn remain in the monastery, their home for the past many years. Manuela swears blind she’s going to leave, but by the looks of things, she’ll be hanging around just a little longer. Hanneman says the opposite- as long as Byleth will let him stay, he’d continue his research here.

Dorothea hangs around too, as does Cyril. With no Rhea left to serve, Cyril helps with the monastery’s restoration. Flayn remains under the watchful eye of her brother, the two of them planning to also stay and help for the time being. Byleth is thankful- Seteth’s help will be invaluable in the coming months and years. Alois begins to reform the Knights of Seiros, crucial in defending the peace until things settle down completely.

And of course, Felix is still here. He refuses to leave, not until he absolutely has to, which Byleth argues was probably a few months ago. To give him some credit, he has been doing work while he’s here- he gets documents sent to him from his assistants in the Duchy, and Byleth finds him in the now empty library more often than not.

Today it is him that finds her, as far away from her new room as she can physically get. It’s rather windy on the Goddess Tower, a place that she’s been avoiding since first returning to the monastery. It’s clean now, at least, no blood stains or dead rats or worse, dead bodies. It’s rather calming, actually, despite what it looked like the last time she was here.

“I thought I’d find you here,” Felix calls out to her from the stairway.

“Sorry,” she is quick to apologise. “I just needed to clear my head, and this is the quietest place I could think of.”  
  
“No need to apologise. I just wanted to talk to you about a few things.”  
  
“Go ahead.” He crosses the floor in a few quick strides, leaning against the stone railing beside her.

“I think… now is the time for me to go back home. I’ve delayed long enough, and some of my attendants are beginning to get really annoyed.”  
  
“I understand.”  
  
“So I was thinking we can leave on Sunday.”

“Ah,” Byleth says. “I don’t think I can come.”  
  
“What? Byleth, you said before-“  
  
“I know, and I’m sorry but…”  
  
“I understand,” Felix says, echoing her words. “You’re busy here. But don’t take too long coming to my… coming home.”  
  
“I won’t,” she smiles. “I’m still very excited. But so we’re being honest with each other… I’m not staying here either.”  
  
“What are you doing then? Going to Fhirdiad? Because I could definitely accompany you there.”  
  
“No. Remember… remember those people that killed my father? Kronya, and… Solon.”  
  
“Of course.”  
  
“We never found their leader,” Byleth says simply. “The scary looking man. I never saw him again. And… well, Dorothea raided the Imperial Palace, because… it’s Dorothea, and she’s nosy, and they were her friends. And Hubert had some documents pertaining to… he called them ‘Those Who Slither In Darkness’.”  
  
“And that’s who killed your father?”  
  
“Yes. At least, we think so. There’s a location, and names, and other notes, so clearly the Imperial Army were working with them, or at least Hubert was. And by the looks of the plans, Hubert was also planning to get rid of them after the Empire won the war.”  
  
“So,” Felix hums, “you’re going to continue on that slime ball’s work? He’s… scary as shit, and dodgy as shit, and you’re going to follow his plans?”  
  
“Yes,” Byleth replies. “I don’t trust Hubert. But I trust Dorothea, and she knows the Black Eagles. And these people are undoubtedly a threat to Fódlan.”

“Okay. Okay. Then let me come with you.”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Byleth, come on. I’m the best swordsman I know.”  
  
“Really?” She says, raising an eyebrow.

“Emphasis on man. I didn’t say swords master.”  
  
“Go home, Felix. I’ve already sorted this whole thing. I have Dorothea, and Ingrid, and Mercedes, Alois, and Catherine and Shamir. And maybe Seteth and Flayn, if they decide to accept my invitations.”  
  
“Alright. I trust you. Just… don’t die.”

“I don’t plan on it. I have someone to come home too.”  
  
“You usually say that about someone you’re married to.”  
  
“We’re nearly married. We’ll be married soon.”  
  
“Why not now?”  
  
“Felix, are you mad?” Byleth says, but in Felix’s book, that’s not a no.

“No, I’m very serious.”  
  
“Then okay.”  
  
“Are _you_ mad?”  
  
“Quite possibly. But I love you, and… well, I said I didn’t want a traditional courtship. What’s less traditional than a week long courtship and a month long engagement?”

“I love you,” he says, leaning in to kiss her.

“No kisses until we’re married.”  
  
“I’ll find Seteth,” he says, drawing back without the hint of a sulk on his usually grumpy visage.

“I’ll find… two witnesses. Any preferences?”  
  
“Not Dorothea,” Felix answers quickly, and Byleth has to laugh.

“If she hears there’s a wedding in the cathedral, she’ll be there anyway.”  
  
“You have a point. Find Cyril, he’s not annoying. And… Flayn.”  
  
“Okay. Meet you in an hour in the cathedral?”  
  
“Yes.” He hovers, giving her a strange look. “Are we changing clothes?”  
  
“Do you have formal clothes with you?”  
  
“Yes,” he admits.

“Then okay. I’ll… find something.”

“We’re wasting time.”  
  
“ _You’re_ wasting time. See you soon.”  
  
Byleth runs down the stairs of the Goddess Tower, and even though her body has only just regained full strength, she’s still fast, and manages to outpace Felix (though she suspects he lets her win).

Cyril is the easiest to locate, hovering around the Knight’s Hall. There are no knights there, not at the moment, but Cyril must find some sort of comfort in the area. He looks a little shocked, almost worried, when Byleth marches up to him, obviously in a hurry.

“There you are,” she says, leaning on the wall opposite him to catch her breath.

“Is something the matter, Professor?”  
  
“No, not at all. I… I have a rather strange request for you.”  
  
“I’ll try to help the best I can.”  
  
“I’m getting married in just under an hour, and I want you to be a witness. More accurately, Felix chose you because he says you’re not annoying. So, are you in?”  
  
“Uh, sure! Is there anything else I can do for ya?” Cyril asks with a grin. Thank Sothis he’s not asking too many questions, Byleth thinks.

“Could you find Flayn and ask her too? I have to find something to wear.”

“I’m on it!”

Cyril seems to bounce in place for a moment before he’s off, though Byleth can’t really tell where he’s going. Now, she just has to find something to wear. She’s well aware of the tradition of the white bridal dress, but she doesn’t own anything white at all, never mind a dress. Dorothea is the only person here with a wardrobe full of different dresses, and luckily for Byleth, she’s in her room.

“Professor! What can I do for you?”  
  
“I need a dress. A white one, preferably. Do you have one?”

“Goddess, are you and Felix tying the knot?” She asks, clasping her hands together, eyes lit up with excitement. Byleth nods mutely, and swears Dorothea almost bursts into tears. “I don’t have a dress, but I know where we can get one.”  
  
And so Byleth is dragged towards Manuela’s office, where the woman sits with her head on the desk. Byleth can tell she’s miserable here, but at the same time, she won’t leave, not until everyone else does. She lifts her head when Dorothea enters, and her face lights up with a genuine smile.

“What can I do for you ladies?”  
  
“Do you know where the costumes from the operetta we performed are?”  
  
“They’re on the third floor, but why on earth do you need them?” Manuela asks, rising to her feet and rooting around on a shelf to find a box that turns out to be full of keys.

“Byleth needs the wedding dress.”  
  
“Oh! Well, I am more than happy to oblige, as long as I get an invitation.”  
  
“You’re more than welcome. It’s in… half an hour. In the cathedral,” Byleth explains, catching the key Manuela tosses at her.

“You really are leaving it last minute, aren’t you? I’ll be there, Professor. I’ll bring Hanneman along with me.”  
  
“Thank you, Manuela.”  
  
Byleth is dragged again, up another flight of stairs to the third floor. There is an empty store cupboard here, or so Byleth thought, for when Dorothea unlocks it, there are props and sets and costumes from clearly many productions that the Officer’s Academy have put on over the years.

Dorothea pushes through the cupboard to the back wall, where there is a rack full of dresses the likes of which Byleth has only heard about. The dress Dorothea pulls out is barely white, closer to silver, but it’s nothing like the dress Byleth imagined. It’s simple, thankfully, and she had expected a huge skirt with a hoop and a corset. Dorothea finds a veil too, and _that_ is dramatic, falling the whole way to the floor in a silvery net.

Locking the cupboard door behind them, Dorothea pulls Byleth into her room, and all but orders the professor out of her usual clothes. Once she’s stripped to her underwear, Byleth steps into the dress, and Dorothea buttons it up at the back. Her hair is attacked too, pulled up and tied with a ribbon that Dorothea pulls off the curtains. The veil is affixed too, settling over her shoulders.

“Oh, Professor,” Dorothea sighs, “you look amazing. Felix won’t know how to react. Though it’s a little long on you, so try not to trip. Oh, and you need flowers…”  
  
“These will do,” Byleth mumbles, grabbing today’s flowers from the vase in her room.

“Great! Now, we better get you to the cathedral!”  
  
“You go on ahead. There’s someone else I need to talk to.”

Dorothea nods, and smiles, and leaves Byleth alone in her room. It feels a little strange, she thinks, to be dolled up like this. Never in her childhood had she entertained the thought of getting married, and in her adolescence she assumed if she was to fall in love, she probably would exchange rings with the person in question in a courtroom in whatever town they were in, under the watchful eye of her father.

While this ceremony is to be small, it’s strange to be wearing a dress at all, never mind a wedding dress that used to be a costume for theatre. She knows Felix wouldn’t care what she wore, but it’s… nice, loathe as she is to admit it. She looks different, but it’s a nice kind of different. She hoists her skirts up, and leaves the comfort of her room.

Before heading to the cathedral, she stops on the second floor outside her old office. The door is open a little, and through the gap she can see Alois, sitting at what is now his desk. He looks deep in thought, so Byleth raps on the door, and he calls for her to enter.

“Hi,” she says, not really sure where to begin with her request.

“Byleth!” He greets, before looking up and gasping. “Oh, Byleth. You look radiant.”  
  
“Thanks,” she mumbles. “I’m getting married in… ten minutes. I don’t know much about wedding traditions, but… would you walk me down the aisle? If you’re not too busy.”  
  
“Of course!” Alois stands, and from the tremble of his lower lip, Byleth can tell he’s trying not to cry. As he crosses the room to her, he fails miserably in his attempt, and soon he’s bawling as he envelops Byleth in a warm hug. “Your father would be so proud of you, Byleth. You’ve done so much, and you deserve this.”  
  
“Thanks,” she manages to mumble in response, trying to keep her own emotions in check. It’s rare that people bring Jeralt up around her, but right now, she’s thankful for the reminder. Her father was perhaps the best person she’d ever known, and to have the reminder of him on what is supposed to be her special day leaves her feeling like today is the right day after all.

“Now! Let’s get you to the cathedral. There is someone waiting for you there.”  
  
Alois talks the whole way downstairs and across the bridge, but for once, Byleth can’t complain, as it keeps her mind off her nerves. She has no reason to feel nervous- she loves Felix and she knows Felix loves her, but there’s a little part of her that worries about their future together. Regardless, she puts a smile on her face, because she knows that in a matter of minutes, she will be married to the love of her life.

“Is he here?” She mumbles to Alois, who peeks his head around the open cathedral door.

Felix stands by the Seiros statue, tapping his foot on the ground. Seteth has moved one of the lecturns into the middle of the cathedral, and has set important looking papers onto it. Flayn and Cyril sit on one side of the cathedral- his side, so to speak- and Dorothea, Manuela and Hanneman sit on the other, the former practically vibrating in place. There’s movement from the back of the cathedral, and Felix whips his head up to see Alois, giving him a thumbs up.

“Seteth,” Felix mumbles, drawing the man’s attention to the back.

“Please be upstanding for the arrival of the bride,” Seteth says, and all five guests get to their feet, turning around to see Byleth in her white dress, on the arm of Alois.

Felix’s heart stops in his chest. When he asked if they were dressing up, he expected to see her in her Archbishop outfit, maybe without the headpiece and cape. But no, she’s in a _wedding dress_ , and has a veil, and flowers, and Felix isn’t sure he’s still on this mortal plane. When she gets closer, she hands her flowers to Flayn, and takes Felix’s hands, a smile on her face.

He feels a little over dressed, in his military coat and boots, those which his father insisted he brought to the monastery the first time and Felix conveniently “forgot” when he left after the war started. Byleth is a higher ranking official than him, and he feels stupid, so he strips the coat off and throws it towards Cyril.

Seteth begins the ceremony, but Felix doesn’t hear much of what he says, too focussed on the woman who stands opposite him. He says the responses at the correct times, and listens to the words that she says in response. He is so full of love for her, his palms sweaty as he attempts to put the ring on her finger. When the ceremony is over, and Seteth pronounced them married in the eyes of the Goddess, Felix does not hesitate to step forward and kiss his wife.


	7. Chapter 7

Duke Fraldarius stares out the window all day. He waits for a dot to appear on the horizon, appearing over the snow-covered hills of the Fraldarius estate. Felix is not usually an impatient man, and yet he feels almost sick with anticipation. A letter sits on his desk, signed at the bottom of the parchment by his favourite person in all of Fódlan.

It has been bitterly cold these last few weeks, and he pities anyone travelling through Faerghus to get to the Fraldarius Duchy. His office is warm though, with the fire blazing in the hearth. He checks the window one last time, before he turns away. There’s a sword that needs maintenance from training last night, so Felix seats himself in his armchair, blade across his knee. A small tabby kitten curls around his ankles, mewling for attention. As soon as he settles, a knock comes to the door, and one of the servants sticks her head around.

“My lord, apologies for the intrusion. Your guests have entered the gates. Are you able to greet them in the hall?”  
  
“Of course.”

Felix practically runs down the stairs, waiting in the entrance hall as his butler opens the front door. When Felix looks out, his face falls. Three horses approach, with three faces he didn’t wish to see on them. _Shit_. He had forgotten all about the king’s state visit booked in for today, with the letter arriving months ago and Felix agreeing without a second thought.

He sighs, all excitement disappearing when he gazes upon not only the face of Dimitri, but also Sylvain and Mercedes, who have accompanied him from Gautier territory. There are a small band of servants behind them, and the Fraldarius attendants quickly move in to take their horses into the stables.

“Felix!” Sylvain greets, practically pushing the king out of the way to hug his friend. “How are you doing? We haven’t heard from you in months! Is this… because of you know who?”  
  
“I have no idea what you’re talking about, Sylvain,” the duke grumbles, brushing Sylvain off.

“It’s nice to see you again,” Mercedes offers, with a most polite handshake. “I do wish you would write more. I know things must be difficult for you, but-“  
  
“I really do not understand what you mean. I’m perfectly happy here.”  
  
“It’s alright, Felix,” Dimitri says with a chuckle as one of the attendants helps him out of his cape. He looks a lot less imposing without the armour and the furs, and at least he takes baths regularly now. “We all just hope you’re not cooped up here because you’re…”  
  
“Can we just get this over with? I have a busy day ahead of me, because I forgot you were coming and scheduled other… meetings,” Felix huffs, leading his guests through to the drawing room, which Felix designated as a room for meetings with other people when he returned a few months ago.

There is a sour look on Felix’s face when Dimitri presents him with papers that need signed off on. It is more sour than usual, because Felix is expecting another guest this afternoon, one who is far more interesting than those presently seated around the table. This meeting has been a long time coming- Felix ignored plenty of missives asking for his presence in Fhirdiad for a long time until one came from Mercedes threatening him, and only then did he agree to hosting this meeting.

It feels like hours of signing and discussing and arguing over tiny details with Dimitri, with unhelpful interjections from Sylvain when he actually pays attention. Mercedes merely sips the tea the attendants delivered, laughing when Felix gets a little too angry.

When sunset arrives, and the attendants begin to light the candles, there comes a brisk knock to the makeshift study door, and Felix’s head snaps up in the direction of the sound. Another one of the Fraldarius servants enters the room, a smile on his face.

“Pardon the intrusion, my lord,” he mumbles, mostly aimed at Dimitri. “Duchess Fraldarius has returned from her travels.”

“Thank you,” Felix says, and ignoring the looks from his three friends, he’s out of the room like a shot, leaving the others sitting in stunned silence.

There in the entrance hall, dressed head to toe in heavy Faerghus furs is Byleth, a case by her side and her sword strapped to her waist. Felix wastes no time in crossing the hall to her, pulling a sword off the decorative wall hanging and pointing it at her, his eyes still focussed. There’s a shuffle of footsteps behind him- Dimitri, Sylvain and Mercedes have entered the hall.

“Draw,” Felix commands, and Byleth complies, pulling the rapier out of the sheath on her belt.

Within moments they are at each other throats in a flurry of slashes, the loud clang of metal against metal. Felix is too fast for her, all that pent-up energy from waiting all day- no, for _months_ \- to see her again. Eventually, she is backed up against the wall, with Felix’s blade against her throat.

“I yield,” Byleth mumbles, and Felix’s sword clatters to the ground as his lips claim hers.

Sylvain whistles, and Felix, remembering that he has guests, releases his wife from his grip and takes a step back, opting for a more normal greeting instead.

“I’m glad to see you.”  
  
“I’m glad to see you too. I missed you,” Byleth says, quickly leaning in for another kiss.

“Fe, when were you going to tell us that you were still together?” Sylvain calls, and the swordsman turns on his heel.

“Is that what you meant earlier? Is this “you know who”? You thought… we broke up?”  
  
“When Byleth headed off to do her thing in wherever she went, with the whole church thing…” Dimitri explains, drifting off.

“When you came back here alone, and didn’t mention Byleth again, we all just assumed…” Sylvain says, earning a laugh from the woman in question.

“Sylvain, we… Felix, I can’t believe you didn’t tell them. They’re our friends!”  
  
“They’re _annoying_. And nosy.”

“Is Byleth… Duchess Fraldarius, then?” Mercedes asks, stepping forward and lifting Byleth and Felix’s left hands before they have time to protest otherwise.

“Yes. We married in the monastery before I came back here,” Felix admits.   
  
“Oh wonderful!” Mercedes practically squeals. “Oh, I wish I could have been there.”  
  
“It was a very quiet ceremony,” Byleth says, “and very spur of the moment.”  
  
“I didn’t even know you were engaged!” Sylvain splutters, but regardless, he pushes forward and draws both of his friends into a hug. “We have to tell Ingrid! She’ll be so excited.”  
  
“Oh, she already knows. I left it up to Felix to tell everyone else… clearly, he didn’t care to share the happy news with you all,” Byleth explains.

“Are you three staying for dinner?” Felix asks, rather bluntly. “I was hoping I could spend some time alone with Byleth now she’s back from her trip. You know, my wife?”  
  
“We’ll get out of your hair,” Dimitri says with a laugh. “I think we can finish up everything else back in Fhirdiad.”  
  
“We’ll have to stop in Gautier territory overnight, then. We can put you up even if these two aren’t willing to. Gotta give them some privacy, right?” Sylvain offers with a wink.

“Just get out before I strangle you, Sylvain.”

Within the hour, the three visitors have left, leaving Felix alone with Byleth. As soon as the servants close the door behind them, they scatter, letting Byleth swoop in on her husband and kiss him senseless. He reciprocates as enthusiastically, craving Byleth as if he had no sustenance in all the months she was away. When she pulls away from him, finally, he doesn’t let her go, keeping her in his arms as she gazes upon his face that she missed when she was away.

“Hey.”  
  
“Hi.”  
  
“Welcome home.”

* * *

Byleth wakes up to a scream in the middle of the night. This is not a sound she is unused to, but it is a sound she would rather not hear. She rolls over to find her husband staring at her, those his eyes flicker closed with the effort of staying awake.

“It’s your turn,” she whispers.  
  
“It’s _always_ my turn,” Felix grumbles, sliding out from under the covers with a sigh.

“It’s because you are so wonderful with him.”  
  
“He’s not a child. He shouldn’t be crying anymore.”  
  
“Felix, he’s two! He must get it from his father. I heard he was a cry-baby for years.”

“Shut up,” Felix huffs. He disappears from Byleth’s sight, and the woman laughs. Though Adrien may no longer be a baby, she is well aware of how much love Felix has for the child (and how desperate he is for him to grow old enough to hold a sword).

Adrien Glenn Fraldarius is two years and three months old, and while he’s good at sleeping through the night, sometimes, a bad dream wakes him from an otherwise peaceful slumber. At least his parents can rest at ease knowing his lungs are healthy. Felix sweeps the child up from his crib, and sits in the armchair, Adrien on his knee.

“What happened, Adrien?” Felix asks. “Did you have a bad dream?”  
  
“Th-there was a bear,” Adrien wails. “It chased me.”

“There, there,” Felix soothes, in a tone that is so unlike him, one reserved solely for Adrien. “There are no bears here. It’s too cold for bears.”  
  
“Are there bears where mummy lives?”  
  
“No bears there either. Bears live very far away.”

“Okay,” Adrien mumbles with a final sniffle.

“Are you going to sleep here?” Felix asks, brushing the child’s dark hair out of his eyes.   
  
“Can I sleep with you and mummy?”  
  
“Okay. But you have to sleep here tomorrow, okay? This is a special treat.”  
  
Now comes the well-practiced dance of taking the child to the toilet, and finding his favourite toy (a lion that Dimitri sent before Byleth even gave birth). It doesn’t take long, though, and soon Felix is leading Adrien by the hand into the bedroom. He climbs into bed, wiggling towards Byleth, who opens her arms for him.

“Oh, Adrien, your face is all sticky,” she laughs, reaching for a tissue from her bedside table. “Your daddy forgot to wash your face.”  
  
“I’ve done enough,” Felix grumbles, pulling the covers back around himself.

“Can we go on horses tomorrow?” Adrien asks, pulling on the sleeve of Felix’s nightclothes.

“If it’s not snowing tomorrow, I think we could find time.”  
  
“Yay!”

“It’s time to close your eyes, Adrien,” Byleth says, and obediently, Adrien snuggles into the lion toy, his eyes drifting closed with the weight of sleep. She catches Felix staring at the child between them, with that soft look on his face that she loves so much. When he is certain that Adrien is asleep, Felix’s eyes flicker over to Byleth’s.

“How much longer?”  
  
“Not long now,” she says with a smile. “The bishop from the Southern Church should be heading to Garreg Mach, so once the hand over is sorted, she will be the Archbishop, and I can… come here permanently.”  
  
“It’ll be weird, having you around all the time.”  
  
“I can stay in Garreg Mach if you want. I’m sure they can find a job for me.”  
  
“No way. I need you here,” Felix mumbles.

“It’ll be good for this little one too. It’s been hard leaving him here. He deserves to have both his parents around all the time.”  
  
“Have you… have you ever considered having another one?” Felix asks, though Byleth isn’t sure if this is because he wants another child or because he doesn’t want another child.

“I’ve been too busy to even entertain the idea. I don’t think I’d be opposed to it, though. I always wanted a sibling growing up. And… I know you were close with Glenn.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, rolling onto his back.

“Just something to think about, then. Once everything has settled down.”  
  
“Once we finally get some sleep, you mean.”  
  
“Hey, he’s been good the whole time I’ve been here. And there’s only one more trip I have to make before my move back here. So no complaining!”

“No complaints about that from me. I’m looking forward to spending every single moment with you.”  
  
“I think Adrien might have something to say about that,” Byleth argues with a soft laugh. “Do you have an early start tomorrow?”  
  
“Mhm. What time do you leave?”  
  
“Afternoon. You should get some sleep, Felix.”  
  
“I’ve been trying to.”  
  
“Goodnight, then.”  
  
“Night.”

He rolls over- something she’s gotten used to over the years. At the start, she thought it was him being cold, but quickly realised that it’s just how he’s most comfortable falling asleep- she often wakes up with his arms around her, seeking her out even in the depths of sleep. It’s only a matter of weeks until this is her home, her life, and she can be with the two people she loves the most.


End file.
